A Cowboy Billionaire Country Star Fake Marriage

(Brookside Ranch Brothers)

Hanna Hart

Copyright © 2019 by Hanna Hart - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

Chapter One

Phoenix

Headlines are everything when you’re a famous country superstar. Phoenix Brooks learned the hard way that the magazines and Twitter feeds can either be your best friend or your worst nightmare, and the headlines:

ROCKSTAR PHOENIX BROOKS WIFE LEAVES HIM FOR BROTHER

and

CAR CRASH NIGHTMARE AS BROOKS’ LIFE CONTINUES TO SPIRAL

weren’t doing him any favors these days.

Four days ago, Phoenix was driving under the influence and crashed his car into the side of a house. The car went right through the yellow siding and into a young couple’s living room.

He pulled himself out of the wreckage, feeling a deep throbbing in both of his knees from the snap of the lower airbag.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, and Phoenix would be able to settle outside of court. If anything, the young couple made a profit off of the accident. When you’re rich, all you have to do is throw money at a problem and it goes away.

Phoenix didn’t remember swerving onto their property. He didn’t remember much of anything except the sickening screech of crunching steel and the airbag appearing out of nowhere.

Aside from his bruises and a couple of stitches, the only thing that suffered was Phoenix’s car and his reputation.

One year ago, his fiancée had a miscarriage and proceeded to leave Phoenix for his younger brother, Hunter.

He hadn’t heard from either of them in nearly twelve months—until that morning.

“Are you okay?” came the frantic text from Rachel, his ex.

Seeing her name come up on his phone spread a wave of nausea through his stomach.

He didn’t respond. He wanted her to worry. But even as he sat in a Nashville boardroom, waiting to be lectured by his closest advisors about his latest screw up, he couldn’t stop glancing down at the text.

“Ever since your ex-wife took off, you have been a PR nightmare,” said Kelly, a woman in her mid-fifties who had been his public relations rep since day one.

Phoenix never remembered having this many PR meetings with his team. Ever. He would do a couple a year or exchange brief texts or e-mails with members of his team to discuss charity work, appearances, and what he should say about certain events in his life—like his fiancée’s pregnancy. But having tense, in-person meetings like this was becoming more frequent, and Phoenix couldn’t say he was a fan of them.

The first of many meetings started when Rachel left and rumors of him cheating on her with a girl from New York began floating around.

“The good news is,” Jonathan, another member of his team, had said eagerly, “we can spin this.”

“Spin it how?” his manager, Adam, asked, throwing a hand into the air. “The girl took off with a country star’s brother. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

“That’s not what his millions of loyal female followers will think,” Kelly said, leaning back in her chair and lifting a finger skyward. “We’ll just have to spin it the right way. ‘Country star loses baby, wife leaves.’”

“Fiancée,” Phoenix said quietly.

He remembered he couldn’t focus during that meeting. He had been spinning Rachel’s engagement ring in between his thumb and middle finger, entranced by it. Months before, his mother had gone to Hunter’s ranch to try to fetch Rachel or talk some sense into her. His mother, Shannon, was a fixer—she always had been, ever since Phoenix was a little kid. So, when all she brought back to Utah was Rachel’s engagement ring, he knew the situation was dire.

He remembered his team talking about what to do and say, and he could barely hear a word. He was transfixed, watching as the light caught against the teardrop-shaped diamond.

Phoenix had been with his ex, Rachel, for ten years and had known her since they were children. They had almost had a child together, until she miscarried and left him for Hunter.

It made him sick to his stomach—especially when he saw it across the headlines of the gossip columns.

“Have you talked to her lately?” Jonathan suggested back then. “A reunion would be a win for everybody.”

“What? Are you kidding me? I say he shouldn’t have anything to do with her,” Kelly said, frowning deeply. “She’s made a fool of him.” She looked at him and nodded, “No offense.”

“Hey!” Adam said defensively. “Believe it or not, breakups happen in the music industry. A lot, in fact.”

Phoenix retreated from the public eye after she ended it.

He needed to be out of the limelight for a while. He’d been touring nonstop since his first album launched. He needed to mourn the passing of his child and the life he had planned with Rachel.

He started writing a new album, Without You, when Rachel first left. Back then, he thought it would be an apology album. He thought his fiancée needed to blow off steam and that when she heard the songs, she would understand how he really felt and come home.

Now it had been a year, and save for two singles, the public hadn’t heard a musical peep from Phoenix.

But they had heard from Rachel.

Not by choice. Rachel wasn’t a big fan of the media being in her life, but after she left, she and Hunter had bought out Hunter’s ranch, freeing themselves from the Brookside umbrella. They turned his Wyoming property into the Pierside Luxury Ranch. Piers, after Rachel’s last name.

“This is a nightmare,” Kelly said. “We’ve spent six months working out a way to talk about the breakup to the media. Now all anybody wants to know is why.”

“Then she comes out with a ranch with his younger brother. There are rumors about the baby. Where is the baby? Whose baby was it? Did she get rid of it?” Jonathan said absent-mindedly.

“Get rid of it?” Phoenix repeated, disgusted. He’d seen the rumors, but he didn’t expect his team to bring them up. “She didn’t get rid of it,” he snapped. “She had a miscarriage. She’s hurting.”

“Hey?” Adam said, snapping his fingers at Phoenix, tearing him from his thoughts.

Phoenix blinked and looked up.

That meeting was a year ago, and the shattering pain Rachel and Hunter left in their wake was like a humming earthquake that wouldn’t stop.

Now he found himself at a similar PR meeting, but this time he was only with Adam. Kelly and Jonathan were nowhere to be found.

Adam talked to him about the conversation his three advisors had, brainstorming ideas about how to spin the breakup and use the miscarriage for sympathy to explain why Phoenix had yet to release his new album and why he was making so many poor decisions—like driving drunk.

The thought made him sick to his stomach.

His team also talked about how they could slander Hunter’s name and tout him as a backstabbing brother, a title that frankly, Phoenix would have zero problems with if it weren’t for the ranch. Even with a name change, Phoenix knew that attacking Hunter would only bring bad PR to the Brookside chain—including his own ranch.

Phoenix Brooks had been given a unique opportunity in life. His parents, Shannon and Roger, were wealthy ranchers from Houston, Texas. They had seven children and a franchise of luxury ranches. As they reached twenty-one, each child was gifted a ranch under the family label: Brookside.

When Phoenix was of age, his parents told him it was now his job to move to another state and officially occupy the Utah Brookside Ranch. He moved with Rachel and started making a home at the wild property.

The ranch was all about wellness and wilderness. It had yoga retreats—his girlfriend’s specialty—as well as horseback riding, fly fishing, skiing, wildlife tours, shooting, kid’s clubs, skating, photography workshops, motorbiking, a pool, and hot tub—not to mention various tours of the beautiful Utah wilderness.

Brookside was beautiful. And a multi-billion-dollar success. But it was never for Phoenix. Rachel fit the rancher’s life, not Phoenix. He was more interested in paying his guitar, singing, and writing music.

Then one day, just a few years into owning the ranch, something amazing happened. Phoenix and his band got signed to a record label and had one of the most successful albums of his generation.

Even though the ranch wasn’t his passion, he wouldn’t want his team to publicly shame Hunter and Rachel and have its blowback on the rest of his family or their businesses.

Adam must have sensed Phoenix’s disapproval of the PR tactic, because he turned to him and set a hand on his shoulder as he said, “We can work on this; don’t worry.”

“I am worried,” Phoenix said. “I don’t want you using my kid or smearing Rachel’s name or bringing all of this up again.”

Adam shifted in his chair. He raised his brows and opened his palms to Phoenix as he said, “Well, unfortunately when you’re a superstar and—”

“Whatever happened to ‘no comment?’” Phoenix asked. “If anybody asks, we say my music always tells a story. Say it’s a private matter, but the new record will give everyone a glimpse into my life.”

Adam had also been with Phoenix since the beginning and was responsible for some of his best career moves. He was trustworthy and often right, so when he put both hands on the desk in front of him and said, “The label isn’t happy,” Phoenix couldn’t help the sense of dread that followed.

“With the songs?” he asked.

“No,” his manager said.

“What...with me?”

“They signed you as a family man,” Adam reminded him. “They took a chance on you. You were this kid with a fiancée and a baby on the way.”

“I can’t go back in time, Adam.”

“I know that, I know,” Adam said, nodding. “Look, nobody is blaming you for what happened. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

“I’ve done the charity shows, I’ve done your carefully scripted interviews, I tried to get her back,” Phoenix insisted, choking back emotion and counting on his fingers as he spoke. “What do they want from me? What do they want me to do?”

“It’s the drinking,” Adam said. “There are rumors of seeing you snorting cocaine, drinking every night. Girls.”

“There are no girls,” Phoenix said firmly. “And no drinking. Not until the accident.”

Adam nodded, but he was strangely business-oriented. Frankly, Phoenix wasn’t used to the professionalism. “And why is that?” his manager asked, crossing his arms curiously.

Phoenix closed his eyes. “Rachel,” he said. “She’s engaged.”

“What?” Adam said, blinking in surprise. “Since when?”

“Day before the crash,” Phoenix confirmed, then quickly added. “But that doesn’t mean I want you using that against her or as some media-fodder.”

“I know you loved her,” Adam said in an I’m leveling with you kind of tone. “I know you love her still. I loved Rachel! She was great, man. It’s a mess, what happened. I can’t imagine, and I know you’re going to need a minute to process this. I know you, kid. Do you want my advice, or should I leave you to it?”

Phoenix shrugged. “Shoot.”

“Your record? It’s amazing. It’s from the heart; it’s true country; it’s what your fans want to hear. The label is excited about releasing it. There’s big money here.”

“But?” he asked.

Adam thinned his lips. “But they’re not so excited about you. You’re unstable. You can’t seem to follow a script. You’re fixated.”

“My kid died,” he said, and speaking the words aloud felt like some sort of betrayal against Rachel and their privacy.

“I know, buddy.”

“You don’t just get over that,” Phoenix swallowed.

The room went silent and stale for so long that Phoenix wondered if his manager would ever speak again. Prompting him, he asked, “So, what? What does the team think I should do? The label hates me, so what are my options?”

“We think you should go back to Utah, to the ranch,” Adam said.

“What?”

“It looks better to the public. Nashville is—”

Before Adam could finish, Phoenix interrupted, “Where the music is. It’s where I’ve been writing.”

“Right. But it’s a hotbed of rumors and gossip. There are girls, clubs.”

“I’ve been writing,” he insisted.

His eyes went large as Adam pulled up his phone, scrolled his fingers across the thick screen, and then flipped it around to show Phoenix a muted YouTube video of himself stumbling out of a country bar.

“Looks to me like you’ve been doing other things,” Adam said with a parental scold. His manager pulled in a breath and asked, “Do you love music, Phoenix?”

“More than anything.”

“Then we need to fix your image. Nobody will touch you right now. You need to go back to the ranch,” he said. Phoenix went to speak, but Adam put a hand up. “It looks more wholesome. It’s what the label, and your fans, want to see.”

“We’ve already delayed the album,” Phoenix argued, looking for any reason not to return to his marital home with Rachel.

“The label wants to see a turnaround by spring, otherwise they’ll drop you.”

Phoenix was incensed. “I have plenty of money,” he spat back. “I’ll self-produce.”

“This is bigger than money,” Adam said. “You’re PR repellant. And don’t forget, part of your contract was to have the classic country image. That meant no drugs, no cheating, no ruining the production company’s reputation. When you were first signed, you were this wholesome kid from a Texas family. You were pure country. Beautiful, supportive girlfriend. Big, close-knit family. You had the horses and the music and this humble attitude. Talent from here to high heaven. You were the package. Now? Your girlfriend accuses you of cheating, we’ve got this New York rumor, no baby, then she leaves you for your brother?”

“Rachel—” he started, but Adam shook his head.

“I’m not finished. We’ve got your drinking and who knows what else, this attitude you’ve got lately, you’re rude to your fans, you don’t show up for gigs, you smashed your car into the front of a corner store? Nobody will touch you.”

“What do you want me to do?” Phoenix asked.

“Your contract renews in spring. I want you to turn it around by then, otherwise, they’ll drop you. Not only will they drop you, kid. They’ll sue you for breach of contract. That means your money, your ranch, and your album will suffer. So, what I want you to do is go back to your ranch. I want you to get a steady girlfriend.”

“I can’t,” he shook his head. “I’m not ready.”

“We need a wholesome girl. A farm girl. Your high school best friend,” Adam threw out absent-mindedly. The very concept made Phoenix cringe. Rachel was his childhood friend, and look how that turned out. “I don’t care who it is; all I care about is how she makes you look.”

Chapter Two

Miranda

Miranda Newton was twenty-six years old and starting a new job for just about the billionth time in her life.

She had recently been hired by the lofty and luxurious Brookside Ranch—Utah location. It was a dude ranch that was anything but rustic. Instead of opting for the pure Western charm of other Utah ranches, Brookside was a mix of country modern with its wooden beams and dark glass walls.

The place was so fancy, Miranda never dreamed she’d be able to work in a place like this.

Then again, it wasn’t hard to be a maid.

She was hired by Brookside to clean rooms. She had been partnered up with some twenty-two-year-old girl. Her name was Beth asked to be called Birdie. “It’s what all my friends call me!” the girl insisted. “And we’re going to be amazing friends.”

Birdie was sweet and innocent as a country bumpkin. She didn’t talk about anything inappropriate, didn’t swear, and probably thought if you cut the world in half, rainbows and butterflies would shoot out of it.

But she was nice, and for that, Miranda was grateful.

Birdie was a jealous girl’s absolute nightmare. She was short and petite with long wavy brown hair and big eyes. She had full lips, a heart-shaped-face, and laughed at just about everything.

This was very much the opposite of Miranda, who was tall, stick thin with no curves to speak of, and had boring, sandy blonde hair.

They made conversation as they fixed bedsheets and vacuumed floors, asking the usual things you ask someone new to your life:

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

“What are your favorite books?”

“What shows are you into right now?”

And with every question asked and answered, their differences became glaring.

Miranda was all about suspenseful thrillers and true crime, while Birdie loved beach romance novels and reality shows. Miranda had been in and out of foster homes since she was five years old, and Birdie actually said, out loud, that her mother and father were her best friends.

Miranda didn’t know whether to be jealous or laugh at the sentiment.

Their lack of common bonds continued to shine like a beacon as Birdie asked, “Are you seeing anybody right now?”

“Nope,” Miranda said, cringing inwardly. “You?”

“Yes! We’ve been dating for eleven months, and he just proposed to me yesterday!”

“Cool,” Miranda said unenthusiastically. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to see the ring?” Birdie asked, clutching her left hand shyly.

“Not really,” she said, but it was too late, Birdie had already walloped her ring finger in front of Miranda’s face, showing off the gold band and vintage setting. “Pretty,” she said. “Did you pick it out?”

“What? No way! That would have taken the surprise out of it,” Birdie said. She had a twang to her voice—a slight accent that Miranda couldn’t place. “He did it while we were on a sleigh ride with my parents.”

Miranda blinked in surprise. Was this girl for real?

“Your parents were there when you got engaged?” she said, snorting out a laugh.

“We’re close,” Birdie said, her face flushing red.

Without thinking, Miranda rolled her eyes. “Sounds romantic. Too bad your grandma wasn’t there, too. Then it could have been a real family affair.”

Birdie threw the corner of the sheet down onto the bed and crossed her arms like a child. “It was,” she said indignantly.

Miranda set her jaw awkwardly. It was obvious that she had offended the poor girl, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. It was a terrible stubborn streak she had.

Besides, this had not been her month, and saying sorry to some picture-perfect princess was not on her to-do list.

Despite Birdie’s friendly demeanor and polite instruction, the two didn’t speak for the rest of their work shift. It was seven hours of near silence.

At first, Miranda thought this was what she wanted, but it didn’t take long before she started feeling bad about the way she spoke to her trainer.

They finished their last room at four in the afternoon, and Birdie closed the door to the luxurious room, announcing, “I’ll show you how to log out for the day.”

Miranda nodded and followed her back to the main lodge. The two slipped into a back hallway where the staff took their breaks and walked her over to the same machine they had checked in at.

“Just set your finger on the scanner and follow the prompts,” Birdie said in a small voice, avoiding eye-contact.

“Right.” Miranda nodded and did as she was told.

When she was done, she desperately wanted to go back home, but something was making her stay. She felt like she had rocks in her shoes as she leaned against the wall and watched Birdie clock out for the day.

“Birdie,” she said, cursing herself for speaking up.

The brunette glanced her way but didn’t speak.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the crack I made about your engagement,” Miranda offered, rubbing her left arm with her hand. “I’m sure it was really special.”

“It was special,” Birdie said defensively.

“Look,” Miranda sighed, “I’m a pretty miserable person these days. I just got out of a pretty serious relationship and my life is kind of a mess right now. I’m a mess, actually. But that doesn’t give me the right to rain on your parade. I’m really sorry.”

Her co-worker offered her a long stare, then shrugged as if it had all been silly.

“It’s okay,” Birdie said softly. “I understand. I’ll cool it with the happy-couple talk.”

“No, please,” Miranda said, embarrassed by her childish behavior. “I want to get to know you. I was just being a crab earlier. You seem to have this great life, and my life is just...well, not so great, at the moment.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Birdie asked genuinely. She gestured toward the hallway and said, “There’s a restaurant at the ranch; we can maybe grab a hot drink?”

Miranda was two seconds away from passing on the offer, but Birdie was insistent. “We get a discount!”

“Well, I can’t say no to that,” Miranda laughed.

She followed Birdie out into the December cold and over into the sleek restaurant where the two sat side by side at the bar top, sipping on herbal teas.

It had been so long since Miranda had anyone to talk to that she nearly forgot how to open up. But for some reason, she wanted Birdie to like her.

So, she told her the whole story.

She met William when she was eighteen. The two dated for a couple of months before breaking up.

Miranda was fresh out of the system and desperately trying to get her life together and at the time she felt she was complicating his life. She didn’t know how to be a girlfriend to anybody. She wasn’t used to checking in with people or being home at a certain time. She’d spent the majority of her life on her own, and being with William felt strange.

Being friends with him, on the other hand, felt completely natural.

Staying friends after you had been romantically connected to someone was difficult, but after a few bumps in the road, she and William somehow managed to put their past behind them. They stayed close friends for the next six years, each supporting one another through job changes, breakups, and failed business ventures.

William had just gotten out of a relationship when their romance began to blossom. On the night of her twenty-fourth birthday, William kissed her on the lips. He told her he’d always liked her, and suddenly it clicked.

It was him. Everything she had been waiting for. She was just too stupid to see it all those years.

Things went fast and furiously from there. William was her best friend, and now she had the luxury of kissing him whenever she wanted.

After they’d been dating for two months, William got a job offer at his parents’ company, flipping and renovating houses in Ohio. When he asked if she wanted to come with him, she gave an emphatic yes.

Everything was absolutely perfect. She was this troubled girl who had finally built a life for herself. She was in debt. Massive debt. But she was happy. She’d found this beautiful boy who seemed to adore her. She made his family her family, adoring his mother and looking up to his father.

“Miranda,” William said, nodding toward her in their newest property buy. She was surprised to see him there, as, after two years of flipping houses, Miranda was good enough to be left alone on the job site without the rest of the family worrying. “We’ve gotta talk,” he said.

“Oh my gosh, did you hear from the inspector?” she said, removing her hard-hat and walking toward him.

“What? No, why?”

Miranda’s brows shot up, and she stuck a finger in the air.

“Mold,” he said, unimpressed.

“Mold,” she nodded.

“This is why I tell you never to buy blind.”

Miranda laughed. “I thought it was a steal! It was so cheap. I guess we know why now, huh?” She snorted. “Come here; look at this,” she said, pulling him upstairs into the master bedroom. The whole house was filled with boxes, furniture, and garbage, but that wasn’t where she was drawing his attention. She was pulling his attention to the giant hole in the ceiling. “We’re going to have to rip all of the sheetrock out.”

William’s face creased into a frown as he looked around the bedroom. “Who lived here?”

“Hoarder house,” she said.

“Geez,” he groaned. “Hoarder houses aren’t usually this bad. They’re dirty, but once you clean them up, paint, and stage, it’s usually an easy sell.”

“I know, right?” she giggled. “So much for my master plan to take my share of this ‘steal’ and start paying the government.”

William looked up at the hole in the ceiling. He seemed off, but at the time, she figured it was all because of the state of the house.

“Are those flies?” he asked.

“Bees,” she confirmed.

“Oh, even worse,” he said, backing out of the room.

“Worse than flies?” she said, following him out.

“Way worse. There are thousands of them!” he said, pointing to the clumps of filled honeycomb that had fallen from the hole and lined the already messy bedroom. “If they were flies, we could just exterminate them. But these are bees. We’re going to have to get a bee expert in here to find out how to safely remove them. They’ve got to find the queen, and it’s this whole process.”

“My little bee expert,” she said fondly. She knew the house was a mess, but she was always up for a challenge. She wasn’t the least bit deterred. If anything, the horrendous state of the property only encouraged her to make it a masterpiece by the time she was done.

She leaned up to kiss him, but William craned his neck to avoid her lips. “Miranda, we have to talk,” he said.

“I know, I know,” she said exasperatedly. “It’s a bigger challenge than we expected but—”

William ran a hand through his red hair and swallowed uncomfortably. “Look, I, well, I kind of screwed up,” he stammered out.

“Hey, I’m the one who said we should buy the place,” she offered sympathetically.

“It’s not about the property,” he said quickly.

“Oh,” she said. The longer she looked at him, the worse she started to feel. Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline coursed through her body, and her heart started thumping wildly against her chest. “Oh,” she repeated emphatically, suddenly understanding the gravity of what he was trying to say. “William, what did you do?”

He showed her his teeth, clenching them together nervously before admitting, “It’s Johanna.”

His ex.

“Did you cheat on me?” she asked.

“No! No!” he said, raising his palms in front of him. “I swear, I didn’t touch her.”

“But you saw her?” she deduced.

William looked down at his feet. “Yeah, I saw her.”

“And?”

“And, we want to get back together,” he admitted.

“You...” she laughed in shock. “But...you’re with me?”

“I’m so sorry, Miranda,” he said, his words coming out in a rapid-fire of desperate tones and sad, sympathetic eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you. You knew when I first kissed you, I was going through something. You knew I was still in love with her.”

“But that was two years ago!”

William winced. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? Just ‘I’m sorry’ and it’s over? You’ve already decided?” she blinked, still not fully understanding what was happening between them. “How long have you been thinking about this, William?”

“I don’t know,” he said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. He looked like a hurt puppy, and she hated that she felt sorry for him. “I’ve been talking to her for a couple of months.”

“Months?” she repeated—that sympathy suddenly fading.

“I know you’re mad,” he said.

She gave a long blink and snapped, “I feel like a disposable wet wipe right now!”

“A...wet wipe?” he repeated curiously.

“You’re just throwing me away, and I don’t even get a say in it! You never even gave me a chance to fix whatever was broken. I mean, are you serious right now?”

Miranda knew she was falling out of her shock as the anger started to well up in her throat. William was the only person she had ever relied on since...ever. And the fact that he was throwing away the life they had been building together for the last two years—the friendship they’d built for eight years—without a second thought hurt more than she ever thought it could.

She moved for him. She changed for him and made her home with him, and he would throw it away for someone he dated for just eight months more than two years ago?

The two of them continued to fight.

Correction—she fought. He just stood there being agreeable and empathetic, which only made her angrier. Why did he have to be so perfect all of the time?

“You can keep your job,” he offered, to which she let out a loud scoff.

She didn’t want to be anywhere near him, so she moved back to Willowdale. She packed everything she could into her little red rolling suitcase and backpack and got a bus ticket that very night.

When Miranda finished telling the story to Birdie, she noticed that she had pressed her lips thin so that they were tight and hard against her teeth. It was a nervous habit of hers, and one she had certainly been making a practice of since she got back to Utah.

“Oh, my goodness gracious!” Birdie said, and Miranda almost laughed. This girl had the soul of a Southern woman. “I can’t believe it. He just left? Just like that?”

“Yep,” Miranda said, nodding slowly.

Birdie looked indignant. “A relationship is about two people,” she snipped. “He can’t just decide it’s over and tell you after the plans are made; that isn’t fair!”

“That’s what I said!” Miranda exclaimed, suddenly feeling not so indifferent to her new workmate.

Maybe this partnership wouldn’t be such a nightmare after all.

Chapter Three

Phoenix

Phoenix trusted Adam. He knew the man only had his best interest at heart, but asking him to find a girlfriend for the sake of his public persona seemed beyond reasonable. Surely, his fans would see his revamped image as PR-play.

Adam was right about one thing, though. Phoenix was slipping. He’d stopped caring about his image. He was stuck in his head, wallowing over his broken life.

At one time in his life, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect his career. He didn’t care about the ranch or his money. He only cared about his music. Perhaps, he wondered, that was why Rachel had left in the first place.

But he was here now. He was mentally present. He was ready to be her partner—but she wasn’t coming back. He was too late.

“I just got in,” he said into his phone as he stepped into his Utah home.

“My poor boy,” his mother said on the other end of the line. “How is it?”

“Looks the same,” he said, stepping gingerly into the foyer.

“I’ll be it does,” Shannon said softly. “But I more meant how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he said, dropping his luggage on the marble entryway.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re not okay,” his mother cooed.

“I know,” he responded.

Shannon had been his rock throughout the breakup. She’d come to all three of his houses, in Utah, New York, and Tennessee, to stay with him throughout various stages of his mourning.

His brother Colt, only one year his senior, had come to visit him with his kids and his new wife, but they only stayed for a weekend. Phoenix was poor company. Usually, he loved being around his nieces and nephews, but interacting with baby Eleanor made Phoenix feel a longing for Rachel and their unborn child that wrapped up in the pit of his stomach like an anchor.

“But I do think it’s good that you’re going back to the ranch,” his mother said approvingly. “It may not feel like it now, but you’ll find some peace there. How long will you be able to stay?”

“I don’t know,” Phoenix said. He was surprised at his mother’s response to all of the news about the record label wanting to drop him. He thought for sure she would be outraged, but she seemed to be in an unspoken agreement with his management.

“They want me here indefinitely, basically, until we start recording for the record,” he said.

“Well, you know what? I think this is good,” Shannon said firmly. “I do. You rarely get the chance to be home. You’re always traveling around. Now you can finally sit back and enjoy the ranch you worked so hard to build.”

“Right,” he said, struggling to find his enthusiasm.

The truth was, Phoenix hadn’t been back to Utah since he’d went to talk to Rachel in Wyoming.

He’d locked himself away in Tennessee, getting lost in the lights and sounds of new talent. Getting lost in drinking. Getting lost in his writing.

Phoenix walked through the glass corridor of his home, past the immense living room, down the hallway by the master bedroom, down the hall by his music room and study, and stopped in front of the door to the nursery.

His mother talked about trying to get his youngest sibling, Kennedy, to go back to school and how impossible it was to keep track of her seven children, but Phoenix could barely hear a word of it.

He pushed open the door to his child’s room and hovered in the doorway, looking at all of the

“Sweetheart?” his mother said, interrupting his silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m just a little distracted.”

“Make it your safe-haven, Phoenix. It will be new. It will be different. But it will be yours.”

Though she couldn’t see him, Phoenix was nodding.

“So, you really think I should stay?” he asked again.

“I do,” she said. “I…” she began but seemed to think better of whatever she was about to say.

“What?” he urged her.

“I’ve been worried about you. Both your father and I have,” she said. “You know we don’t look at tabloids.”

“Good,” he said quickly.

“But sometimes it’s hard not to hear what people are saying,” Shannon admitted, sounding ashamed. “I saw those pictures of you, and I’m not going to lie, it really upsets me, Phoenix. I’m worried about your health. People mourn in all different ways, but I don’t want to see you self-medicate.”

Phoenix tilted his head skyward and looked up at the smooth white ceilings above him.

“I don’t need to hear how I’ve disappointed you right now, mom,” he said.

“You could never disappoint me,” she said. “But I’m worried. I am.”

Shannon Brooks had made no secret that Phoenix was her favorite son. Phoenix always knew this, just as he knew his father had a soft spot for Hunter and the eldest brother, Jett. She had always encouraged Phoenix to do whatever he felt was right. She’d been his biggest cheerleader and, perhaps, his biggest enabler. She never lectured him and never said no. So, the fact that she was expressing concern for his wellbeing wasn’t lost on him. Things must have looked very, very bad.

“Speaking of disappointments,” Phoenix said quietly. “Have you heard…?”

“From your brother?” she asked curiously. She didn’t specify which brother she was talking about—she never did, despite having six sons—but they both knew they were speaking about Hunter.

“That they’re engaged?” he followed up quickly.

Shannon went quiet, and he could practically see her twirling the phone cord on her finger. His parents were still the kind of people who had their phone latched up against the wall in the kitchen with a long, white cord that could stretch from room to room.

“Yes,” she said solemnly. “I heard.”

Phoenix let out a sigh. So, it was true.

“When is the wedding?” he asked. “Did you speak to him directly?”

“No, I didn’t, but your father did,” Shannon replied. “The wedding is in June, I think, but we haven’t received any formal invitation so I can’t be sure.”

“Six months,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Wow.”

His heart sunk at the thought of it. He stared at the door to the nursery and felt like kicking it down. Rachel and Hunter couldn’t wait for him to get out of their way. How long had they been in love, and how stupid had Phoenix been not to see it all those years?

“I don’t like to talk about this; you know that,” his mother said, her voice a tearful panic. “Please, Phoenix, it upsets me, and it will upset you, too.”

“I’m going to go,” he said curtly.

“Don’t end on a bad note, please,” his mother said.

“I’m not,” he assured her, though couldn’t convey anything in his tone except for sadness. “I have to go unpack, Mom. I’ll call you later, alright? Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will,” she said. “I love you.”

“You too,” he said before ending the call.

Phoenix stepped into the nursery in front of him and stared at the white dresser in between the two tall windows, the gray tufted couch and round matching ottoman that Rachel insisted on having for the baby’s room. He looked at the striped warm gray walls and black crib.

Phoenix usually loved the quiet. He loved solitude. It helped him write. But this home, this quiet, was deafening.

The house felt haunted by ghosts; the air crept with soft prickles of all the things he didn’t say when Rachel was still there to talk to.

He sat on the couch and picked a furry lamb up into his hands. He thumbed across its button eyes and

He felt a swarm of heat enter his throat, like a fiery breath waiting to come out and destroy everything. He wanted to cry.

Phoenix left the room quickly, closing the door behind him and vowing never to go back inside.

He sat on the living room couch with his head in his hands and desperately wished he could talk to Rachel.

He had never been through a big life event without her at his side. Even if he was in a different city or state, he could always call her and ask her what to do. He felt alone in a way that he’d never experienced before.

He’d been with Rachel for ten years, and now the label wanted him to find someone else?

Phoenix hadn’t been able to comprehend that things were really over between them. As painful as it was, part of him hoped that Rachel would come back to him after she got this thing with Hunter out of her system.

They lost a baby. They were spiraling.

If she needed to have a meltdown and rebel, he could wait for her.

He promised himself he would wait.

She called him during a lawyer’s meeting once, begging for his consent to buy out the Brookside name and own Hunter’s ranch outright. His heart was broken, but he loved her enough to give her what she wanted, still thinking that maybe she would come to her senses.

He stared at his guitar across the living room. It was a vintage Taylor acoustic that he’d had since he was a teenager. It was made with Hawaiian koa wood. The swirls of dark and light wood dancing and intertwining together gave it a moody look.

Phoenix wrote all of his songs on this guitar. He never took the instrument out on stage, but he always kept it in his trailer, hotel room, or whichever home he was staying at.

There was hot, burning hate inside his chest that made him want to reach out for the Taylor and put pen to paper; voice to chord. But for the first time in his life, he couldn’t write.

Losing Rachel and losing their child had been the most painful thing he had ever experienced. The words flowed out of him like lava from a volcano, fiery and fresh with details and emotion. He had never written songs as easily as he had after Rachel left. The hurt was so real.

But this pain, finding out Rachel was engaged, was something else entirely. It hurt more than Phoenix could comprehend.

He’d never met devastation he couldn’t write about, until now.

Chapter Four

Miranda

Moving was difficult when you didn’t have a credit card in your name.

Miranda’s debts made it impossible for her to get an apartment when she moved back to Willowdale. She thought she could find an old friend or foster parent to crash with for a while, but apparently, she’d left a bad taste in their mouths. She ended up begging a local trashy hotel owner so she could pay cash daily to rent a room.

Her room consisted of a round bed, a seventies dresser, nightstand, Bible, and bathroom. There wasn’t so much as a minifridge to keep food in or microwave to cook with.

This meant that the only hot meals Miranda had gotten since coming back to the chilly December in Utah had been the comped ones at the ranch.

Her job paid well, but so far, Miranda had only been paid once and had been getting relentless calls from the government—which she’d been ignoring.

“What’s this?” Miranda asked as she met Birdie for lunch at work.

Birdie was sitting in the break room with two plates of potatoes, beans, and steak for the duo. It was going to be a hearty lunch, for sure. She also had a shiny red gift bag sitting between the plates.

“I’ve decided that we’re going to do a media swap,” Birdie announced as she began tying her long hair up into a thick scrunchie.

“Have you now?” Miranda laughed, peeking into the bag.

“Yes,” Birdie nodded. “We have basically nothing in common, and I want to be your friend. So, I’ve decided that I’m going to try some of your creepy books and scary movies and you are going to try my feelgood books and adorable movies.”

Miranda couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips as she looked into the bag. There were a couple of books and two thumb-drives, which she assumed held the shows and films.

“I kind of love this idea,” she said, rifling through some of the books. “Memories of Summer? Country’s greatest hits?” The latter was written on the thumb drive in tiny, precise cursive.

“I’m starting you off slow,” Birdie said before tucking into her baked potato. “Oh! Oh! Speaking of which!” she said excitedly. “Did you hear? Did you hear?”

“What?” Miranda said, sitting down next to her and moving the bag to the back of the table so she could get a good look at her friend. “No? What happened?”

“The owner is back!”

Miranda blinked. “The owner of the ranch?”

“Yes,” Birdie gushed. She’d never seen the girl blush before! “Phoenix Brooks!”

Miranda nodded but wasn’t exactly sold on why this was so exciting. Didn’t the boss coming back mean everybody was going to be on edge now? Kind of like how a supervisor comes in and everybody goes rigid?

Then it clicked in. “Wait, isn’t that one of the bands you mentioned the other day?” she asked.

Birdie’s jaw dropped, and she emphatically dropped her fork so that it clattered onto her plate. “Oh, my goodness. You’ve never heard of Phoenix Brooks?” she asked, and Miranda shook her head. “Country superstar?” Still no. “Miranda!” her new friend scolded.

“And he owns the ranch?” Miranda asked with a shrug.

Her co-worker took a sharp breath and put both of her hands up. “Okay,” she said firmly. “It’s this whole thing. The Brookside ranches are all across America, and they’re each owned by one of the Brooks siblings. Anyway, I guess he’s back for a while as he writes his new album. Isn’t that amazing?”

“As you have learned, I am not exactly a country superfan,” she snorted. “What does a superstar want with a cowboy ranch, anyway?”

“First of all, it’s called a Dude Ranch, not a cowboy ranch,” her friend said.

Miranda tapped her nose and then reached an arm over to give Birdie a half-hug. “You’re such a good teach, teach!”

Birdie giggled. “Second of all, he started out ranching. The music happened afterward. That’s why it’s mostly Mr. Montgomery and Mrs. Sandalwood who run the place when he’s not around.”

Miranda raised her brows and said, “Exciting.”

“I know you’re saying that like it isn’t, but it is! You’ll see.”

Birdie wasn’t wrong. The whole ranch was abuzz with his return. Maybe if Miranda listened to country music, she would have cared, but she was perfectly happy with her pop-rock.

Birdie talked about him so much that Miranda started to wonder whether she had a fangirl crush on him, though Birdie admitted she had only met him in passing.

Days went by, and Miranda had yet to catch a glimpse of this alleged country superstar.

It wasn’t until she was punching out one evening that Birdie landed a vice grip on her arm and began nodding toward the door. “Oh my gosh, that’s him,” she whispered, starstruck.

Miranda turned around. She was expecting to be swept away by good looks and charm, but the guy hardly looked like a celebrity. He was tall and thin with light brown, shaggy hair and a face full of stubble.

He made small talk with one of the other employees before turning his attention to Miranda. He offered her a smirk, and Birdie’s grip on her arm tightened so fast it made Miranda laugh.

“Hey,” he said, reaching a hand out toward her. “You’re Miranda Newton, right?”

“The new girl,” she said with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Phoenix Brooks,” he shook her hand. “Can I talk to you in my office for a second?”

“Sure thing,” she said.

Birdie’s eyes went as wide as saucers as she watched Miranda gather her things and follow her boss toward the door. She mouthed the word ‘DETAILS!’ and Miranda gave her a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

Phoenix’s office had a glass ceiling and two glass walls. The curtains were drawn, but she could imagine he had a sweeping view of the ranch from the room. The rest of the walls were rustic wood beams, and there was a couch, desk, and built-in bookcases.

They sat on opposite sides of the desk, and for the first time since she got to Brookside Ranch, she felt nervous.

For someone who probably interacted with fans all the time, he wasn’t exactly warm and friendly. He wasn’t making small talk and hadn’t said a word to her since they were back in the staff room.

“Nice office,” she said, desperate to kill the silence.

He didn’t acknowledge her compliment. Instead, he stared at his computer screen before meeting her eyes and asking, “How are you doing here at Brookside? Do you feel like you’re getting the hang of things here?”

“I love it here. Birdie is teaching me a lot. Plus, it’s so peaceful, and the guests are all so nice an—” she stalled. “Wait...I’m not fired, am I?”

“What?” he blinked. “No, no, nothing like that. You’re a hard worker and we certainly don’t want to lose you.” He paused. “Look, I don’t mean to embarrass you…”

Her heart sank immediately. If he was about to humiliate her, then she knew this could only be about one thing.

“I received a call today from the government concerning your work. They have put us under the uncomfortable obligation to garnish your wages.”

“To...?” she said, trailing off.

“That is,” he said slowly, “they’re going to be taking a percentage of your wages to pay off any debts you may have towards them.”

Her eyes quickly found the floor, and she rubbed her hands against her cheeks. Don’t panic, she told herself. This was a good thing. Or it could be a good thing. She had planned on paying off the government anyway; she just didn’t know quite how to do it yet. This would just push things forward in a positive direction.

“Oh my gosh,” she exhaled. “By how much?”

“By eighty percent, unfortunately.”

Her head sprung up, giving him a surprised stare. That was definitely not going to be a positive direction.

“They’re taking eighty percent of my wages?” she repeated in a panic. “For how long?”

“Until the debt is paid off, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Can they really do that?”

“I’m very sorry. I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, but I wanted to let you know so that you can figure out how you would like to proceed.”

Miranda felt lightheaded. She wanted to ask him what he meant or what she should do, but she couldn’t get the words to leave her mouth.

Phoenix’s blue eyes were incredibly watchful. He asked, “Are you alright?” and it was the first time he seemed even remotely kind.

“I mean, obviously I’ve been better,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a bad day. A lot of bad days, actually. A bad time. That would be a more apt way to describe it,” she said, pulling in a breath. “A bad life, maybe,” she began to nod, desperate for a breath.

“I can relate,” he said simply.

Without warning, Miranda began to cry. It was a hard cry with heaping breaths like she couldn’t get enough air. Her face felt hot. It was everything—the breakup, the debt, the life she’d envisioned for herself disappearing before her eyes. She tried to apologize to the poor guy sitting across from her, but she couldn’t seem to speak.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he hushed, slowly getting up and kneeling next to her.

“It’s not okay,” she cried. “I’m out of money, and I’m,” she hiccupped. “I’m really scared, and I have no one to talk to. I have nobody. I’m not going to have anywhere to go.”

Phoenix drew his fair brows together. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Where are you living now?”

“I’m just renting a room,” she shook her head. “And I’m not going to be able to afford it anymore. Oh my gosh, I’m going to be homeless.”

“Shh, it’s okay. Settle down.”

She tried to calm down. She tried biting the insides of her lips and digging her fingernails into her thighs to distract her, but her mind was reeling.

The gravity of her life finally fell in on her. She didn’t have William. She didn’t have a house—she didn’t even have loving parents to fall back on in times of distress. She would probably end up in jail for tax evasion, and not one single person in the entire world would care.

She was full-on hyperventilating, and she tried to say, “I have,” she gasped, “no one.”

Phoenix let out a noise, but she couldn’t register what he’d said. She was shaking. Then she felt his hand on her arm. She turned to him, and he set both hands on her cheeks.

“Hey,” he hushed. “Can you hear me?”

She nodded.

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Focus on the sound of my voice, okay?” he instructed, and she began to nod. “You’re having a panic attack. It’ll be over in a minute, okay?”

Again, she nodded, but her body began to tremble harder.

He held his warm hands against her face for what felt like forever, breathing with her and giving her instructions. She didn’t know how he did it or how long they sat like that, but she went from feeling like she was having a heart attack to feeling settled, if not a little shaken.

Chapter Five

Phoenix

Phoenix had a long list of things he wanted to accomplish. He wanted to record his record and get it out to the public. He wanted to be back on tour, and he wanted to make things right with his management.

But more than anything else, he wanted Rachel.

Yet, his attention had shifted from all of these things over the last three days to Miranda Newton, the girl he had met at the ranch.

He hadn’t been able to focus on anything else ever since she said she had no one. She was alone.

Phoenix knew what that felt like. Loneliness had crept into his world like a fog that blinded the rest of his ambitions.

But unlike Miranda, Phoenix couldn’t relate to her financial situation. Financial stress? Yes.

Owing money? Sure.

But having the government come in and take everything you have? No, definitely not. The very thought horrified him.

Phoenix tried to reason that she’d somehow brought this on herself. She had obviously made some bad decisions. But isn’t that what happens when you don’t pay your taxes—don’t follow the law?

He wanted to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

He’d been toying with an idea that was potentially a huge gamble. But it was something that could benefit both he and Miranda in the long-run.

Phoenix wanted to tell someone about it, but despite his large family, he’d never felt more alone.

It used to be that if he had something weighing on his mind, Phoenix would call Hunter. The two couldn’t have been more different—Hunter was loud and endlessly talkative, and Phoenix was quiet and introspective. Hunter was a constant barrage of jokes; Phoenix was serious. But they balanced each other. Hunter allowed Phoenix to see things—to see people—from a different perspective.

What hurt the most about the whole mess was that Phoenix never saw it coming. Rachel and Hunter had been best friends since they were kids. If something was going to happen between them, wouldn’t it have happened when they were teenagers?

He hated Hunter as much as he hated to admit that he missed him. He may have even missed Hunter more than he missed Rachel.

He could have called his older brother Bennett, who had been furious about Hunter branching away from the Brookside chain and about everything that went down with Rachel.

Bennett always had Phoenix’s back. But Phoenix didn’t want to hear another person complaining about Rachel. He didn’t want someone blindly taking his side on matters.

Then there was Kennedy—the baby of the family. The two were born nine years apart. She was the sibling that brought all of the boys together. She was the only girl, and so the brothers made it their mission to protect and spoil her as much as possible.

Kennedy was close with Hunter, Phoenix knew, and the two of them hadn’t spoken much since everything happened the year previous. It was only through his brother Colt that he’d heard Kennedy was going to be Rachel’s maid of honor.

If he wanted a reality check, he could have called her, but Phoenix decided against it. This was a decision he was going to make on his own, for once.

When he turned twenty, his parents decided he would move away from Houston, Texas to take over at Brookside Utah.

Just a few short years later, he got signed to a major record label and had a literal team making his decisions for him.

Then there was Rachel, who decided to leave without so much as a discussion about it.

Now he’d once again been told what to do—told to return to Brookside and the ranch that brought a lightning-like pain into the pit of his stomach.

He couldn’t even think of the last decision he made for himself. So maybe this would be the one.

Phoenix showed up to work early the next day and looked over some paperwork, signed off on some orders, and had a meeting with his investors, who were also worried about how his image would affect the business at the ranch.

He told them they had nothing to worry about—and he was right. Business had never been better. The ranch was booked solid for the foreseeable future. If anything, the drama of his personal life had only made the ranch seem more exciting to stay at.

None of the ranch staff asked about Rachel nor the string of intoxicated photos that had surfaced of the country star.

It was twenty degrees Fahrenheit in Utah. The December weather was cold and biting as Phoenix walked from his office across the ranch to some of the staff rooms. He waited where he last saw Miranda punch out. When she arrived, she looked embarrassed.

“Hey,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Hi, how was your day?” he asked.

“Oh, you know…” she trailed off. “Changed some sheets, stocked some mints. Very life-changing.”

“Clearly,” he agreed. “Are you okay?”

She turned to face him. If you only looked at her face, you would swear she had curves. Her cheeks were rounded and youthful like she had yet to lose her baby fat. But a glance at the rest of her body would reveal a slender, tall, swimmer’s build. Long arms, broad shoulders, flat chest.

“You’re referring to my meltdown the other day?” she smirked.

“No,” he said. “I was referring to the fact that you don’t seem to want to look at me.”

She met his eyes—blue on blue. “Oh, that,” she teased. “Well, see, the last time I saw you, you were the bearer of bad news.”

“You’re saying I’ve become the grim reaper in your world?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he said, putting up his hands. “Guilty as charged. I was wondering if maybe I could change that? Turn into an angel of light or something.”

“An angel of light?” she laughed.

He shrugged sheepishly. “Or whatever the opposite of the grim reaper is.”

“Let’s say…” she began, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Life-giver?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “Do you mind if I talk to you about something privately?”

“Oh,” she swallowed. “Yeah, of course. Now?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Without hesitation, Miranda followed Phoenix back into his office. He fixed her a tea, something herbal and floral, and grabbed himself a bottle of water out of his mini-fridge before sitting across the desk from her and cringing inwardly about what he was about to ask her.

Miranda fumbled with the tea when he handed it to her, spilling some on the desk and soaking her coaster like a sponge.

“Sorry, I’m just really nervous,” she said, wiping the tea up with a napkin from her purse. “And embarrassed.”

“Why?” he asked.

She posed big eyes at him and rolled them playfully. “I mean, I basically had a meltdown in front of my boss and rambled about my money troubles.”

He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sure,” she nodded. “I guess I’ll take it as a lesson to learn when to shut my mouth.”

“Talk as much as you want,” he said.

“Can I just crawl in a hole now?” she laughed.

“Sure.” He offered a polite chuckle and looked her over. “Or you can talk to me.”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?” he offered with a shrug. “If nothing else, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

Miranda watched him for a moment and then smirked, relenting. She pulled in a long breath and said, “Long story short, my boyfriend left me for his ex-girlfriend.”

Phoenix felt his stomach drop at the mention of exes, and he immediately felt for the girl.

“And then I lost my job. I have all these student loans and bank loans for a business I had wanted to start, which obviously didn’t do well.”

He nodded toward her. “What business?”

“I was trying to open an after-school program for underprivileged kids,” she said. “It was great. We had big brothers and sisters, that type of thing. I also had a couple of programs going—camps and sports,” she scratched her arm nervously. “But I had to pay my employees.”

“You didn’t want to go the non-profit route?”

Miranda shook her head. “I didn’t think I needed to. I went in on the company with my friend Karen. We both grew up in the system, and we thought we knew better what the kids needed. We thought we could make it a real company, you know?”

He nodded. “Sounds like things were going well.”

“Yeah, they were. Then…” she trailed off. “I was self-employed for so long, and it was hard to, you know, take money out for taxes.”

“So, you owe the government, and that’s why they’re garnishing your wages?”

Miranda’s face fell into a deep grimace. “Pretty much.”

“What about your partner?” he asked. “Isn’t she able to help you?”

The blonde sighed and shook her head. “No. Karen liked cocaine more than she liked being a business owner.”

Phoenix blinked in surprise. “She’s a drug addict.”

“Was,” she corrected.

“She quit?”

Miranda shook her head. “No, she died two years ago, just before I met my ex.”

“Wow,” he exhaled.

Phoenix was no stranger to drugs. He didn’t do them, despite what the tabloids reported about his ‘drug-fueled weekends’ following his breakup. But just because he didn’t do them didn’t mean he wasn’t around them. The music industry was full of artists who were all willing to try anything once, even country stars.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s terrible.”

Miranda shrugged. “I had no idea. I mean, I knew she had a problem when we were younger, but I thought she was clean. Otherwise, I never would have gone in on the business with her.”

“It’s alright,” he said, sensing her getting upset all over again. “There are ways to fix things like this. You can make a proposal with the government; you can go bankrupt; you can move back in with your parents.”

“I don’t have parents,” she said.

“Right,” he mumbled, then scraped his teeth against his bottom lip. “You were in foster care. What about siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents?”

Miranda shook her head. “I have no one. Even if I went bankrupt or made a proposal, I don’t have the money to fix it. I can’t pay a lawyer. I don’t have a car because they took it.”

Phoenix looked down into his hands. Even with how alone he felt, Phoenix never felt unloved. He knew, at the very least, he had his parents and most of his siblings in his corner. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have nowhere to go.

“I’m going to be homeless,” she said, and her lip began to tremble.

Phoenix reached out and put her hand on her shoulder. “You’re not going to be homeless.”

“How do you know that? All signs right now are pointing to homeless.”

“Because I won’t let that happen,” he said firmly. “I have an idea of how I might be able to help you, but it’s…unconventional.”

Miranda pulled away from his touch and wiped at her eyes. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She sighed. “Don’t take pity on me just because you saw me crying. Please, I’m so embarrassed.”

“You need help,” he said evenly. “And I can help. So, why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t even know me,” she scoffed. “Besides, I don’t want any charity.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to turn down help,” he said. “And besides, it wouldn’t be charity.”

Miranda raised a delicate brow and blinked in surprise. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Phoenix pressed his lips together, considering whether he should reveal his proposition to the girl. If she accepted his contract, it would solve both of their problems. But if she rejected it and somehow managed to leak it to the public, he would look like a desperate, washed-up celebrity.

“I’m having some troubles of my own,” he said. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my fiancée…” his words suddenly halted, unable to convey the real story to the girl in front of him. “I just went through a really difficult breakup myself.”

“I’m not someone who pays attention to celebrity gossip, or country music, to be honest. Sorry.”

He laughed bitterly. “Don’t be sorry. It’s refreshing, actually.”

“Yeah, well…I’m sorry you’re going through that, anyway,” she said sympathetically. “It’s hard enough going through a breakup when your friends know about it, let alone the whole world.”

“It isn’t easy,” he said simply. “It’s been really, really hard.”

He explained to her about his image and his unhappy agents. He told her that he wanted to clean up his act, and then he made her an offer to become his media girlfriend.

It was perfect.

Or perfectly insane.

Phoenix had to fix his reputation, and Miranda needed money.

He didn’t know her that well, but everything he did know checked out. She was sweet, easy on the eyes, from a humble background, loved the ranch life, and had lofty aspirations to help underprivileged kids.

On paper, she was the package.

He would pay her to be his girlfriend, or maybe even wife, under contract. He’d give her a million, something to help her pay off her debts and get her life back in order. In return, she would live at his house, attend events, and avoid dating until their contract was up.

“A million?” Miranda repeated, nearly choking on her tea.

The fact that she hadn’t screamed or stared at him with a horrified expression gave Phoenix hope that maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

“There about,” he said. “Enough to get you on your feet—maybe even open your business back up.”

“How long would the contract be?” she asked in shock.

“I don’t know,” he said. “My label wants me in good standing by the spring. So, enough to appease them, get my record out, do a press tour. I’d say, a year?”

Miranda’s eyes went as wide as saucers. She threw both hands over her mouth and seemed lost in thought as she stared down at her legs.

Phoenix couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. It was almost cute, in a way.

She looked up at him and asked, “Are you for real right now?”

“Unfortunately,” he said. “You’re just about the only person who doesn’t make me want to rip my skin off right now, which is saying a lot.”

“You barely know me,” she repeated.

He nodded. “And yet I’ve told you more about my life than I’ve told pretty much anyone.”

She thought about it, seeming to consider the offer, but then began shaking her head slowly.

“I don’t think I can do that,” she said quietly.

“Why not?” he asked. “You need the money.”

“I just…” she shrugged. “I just can’t do that. It’s a lot of money, and it’s a generous offer—”

“Is it the no-dating-clause?”

Miranda laughed. “No way! I’m through with love.”

“Famous last words,” he said, although he felt the same.

“I’m serious,” she said firmly. “If I didn’t date for twenty years, it would be too soon. No, it’s just, it’s a little…”

“Odd?” he finished.

“Unconventional,” she said. “But very, very generous.”

“I understand,” Phoenix said, though he couldn’t deny that he was disappointed. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Had he just put his foot in his mouth? Made himself out to be a lonely, creepy, crazy musician? Would he have to tell his manager and have Miranda sign a confidentiality clause not to talk about his offer publicly?

The media wouldn’t believe her anyway. After all, the idea was ludicrous, but the last thing he needed was more bad press for his label to worry about.

Chapter Six

Miranda

Miranda could hardly sleep.

Phoenix’s offer had been unexpected, and strange, and yet oh-so alluring.

She cursed herself for saying no, but it felt immoral, somehow, to pretend to be someone’s girlfriend all for the sake of their PR agent. But then again, who was she to decline such a generous offer? She was basically being handed one million dollars in exchange for jet setting around the world with a superstar for a year. Her troubles would be over. Forever over.

Then again, Miranda didn’t know if she could live a lie. It wasn’t the type of person she was.

What would happen, anyway? They would be boyfriend and girlfriend so, would they kiss? Would she live with him? Have to give interviews? Would her life become an endless parade of paparazzi?

She tossed and turned all night, feeling sick to her stomach. Did she make the right decision?

Miranda wanted to talk to Birdie about it, but the poor guy seemed like he’d been burned enough by the public and she didn’t want to go around spreading rumors about him—even if they were true.

The next morning, as Miranda reached the lockers at her work, she still couldn’t shake the mysterious offer.

“I feel like I now know all I have ever wanted to know about Mr. McElroy,” Birdie said that morning as she returned Miranda’s book to her.

“Wasn’t that crazy?” Miranda gushed, slipping the book into her bag before stuffing her backpack into her work locker.

“It was...very disturbing,” Birdie decided.

“Seems like the whole town was in on it, right?”

“I don’t know how you can read stuff like that,” her friend said. “I tried to read it before bed, and I had the heebie-jeebies all night!”

“And I don’t know how you can read this,” Miranda retorted, handing Birdie back her paperback copy of Love Letters, a story about a couple who exchanges letter through time and somehow finds a way to be together. “Am I supposed to believe that these people fell in love over the course of two months?”

“What?” Birdie said, scolding. “What do you mean? How long does it take you to fall in love?”

Miranda offered a single-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. Longer than that!”

“If you’re willing to believe that he’s sending her letters from nineteen-forty-five and she’s in the nineties, and they are exchanging letters through a magical bookcase, I’m pretty sure you can suspend your disbelief for a how long it takes them to fall in love.”

“Fair enough,” Miranda said. “What’s next?”

“This one is my favorite,” Birdie said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a movie entitled Lost Over Winter. “It’s about a girl who just went through a divorce, and she moves to Alaska to find herself.”

“And let me guess,” Miranda chided, “she finds love, instead?”

“It’s really good, trust me.”

“Mmhmm,” she giggled. “Here’s mine.”

Bridie took the disc coverlet into her hands and read off the title, The Zodiac Killer, and sighed. “This is so not fair,” her co-worker laughed. “I give you all of this amazing, lighthearted, feelgood stuff, and you give me books and shows that give me nightmares.”

“Hey,” Miranda laughed, “this was your game!”

“I know, I know,” the girl said. “And we’re going to keep exchanging our favorites until we find something the other one likes.”

The offer consumed her thoughts and distracted her from her work for most of the day.

One million dollars.

The amount was so extravagant, it almost didn’t seem real. The very concept that she had just said no to a million dollars send her arms shivering with goosebumps. Who was she to be turning down that kind of money?

Her distraction wasn’t lost on Birdie, who was quick to point out when Miranda wasn’t paying attention or bring up things she’d missed in their cleaning routine.

Four hours into their shift, Birdie asked, “Is something on your mind?”

Miranda let out a muffled laugh, and her eyes went wide. She tucked a silky sheet under the left corner of the king-sized mattress and worked in unison with Birdie to cover the bed until the sheet was pulled taut.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Miranda admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Miranda set her jaw. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Birdie said with sugar. “You just seem like you’re somewhere else today.”

“Yeah, uh,” Miranda stammered. “Well, it’s actually about Phoenix.”

Birdie’s expression brightened. She dropped the thick duvet she was holding and bounced onto the bed, so she was kneeling in front of Miranda. “I knew it!”

“You...did?”

“Yes!” her friend exclaimed. “Tell me everything!”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Miranda said. “What do you know about Phoenix? I don’t know anything about the guy, and Googling him seems so...” she stalled and made a face. “I don’t know. Gross.”

“Okay, um. Alright, so, he comes from a big family,” Birdie began, counting on her fingers.

“Right,” Miranda remembered. “Each of them has a ranch. Super rich. Billionaire brand.”

“He was engaged to his high-school sweetheart for like four or five years. They announced last year that she was pregnant, and then I guess she lost the baby. It was horrible.”

Miranda’s heart sank. “That’s awful.”

“Then I guess he was on the road and there were all these rumors about what happened,” Birdie shrugged. “Nothing ever substantiated. But after that, I guess they couldn’t get over it. Now she’s with his brother.”

“Ew,” Miranda said, wrinkling her nose. “Imagine dating your fiancé’s brother? That’s like, the worst thing you could do.”

“It was this huge scandal, for sure,” Birdie confirmed. “And he’s pretty much been a mess ever since. I think he’s still heartbroken over it.”

“Wow,” Miranda shook her head. “It sounds so salacious.”

Miranda knew this was the way of celebrity life. Once you open up your talent to the world, the world takes free reign to poke into every single avenue of your life and exploit it for money. But hearing the prideful and painful moments of someone’s life spouted out in bullet-point form felt so much different when you knew the person being talked about.

“He asked you out, didn’t he?”

Miranda shifted. “Not exactly.”

“Oh, my gosh! What did you say? I mean, I know what you said. You said no or you wouldn’t be so bummed out right now!”

“He didn’t ask me out,” she reiterated. “Not in so many words. I think he just needs a friend.”

Birdie blinked in surprise, her expression falling into confusion. “Oh. Then...what’s the problem?”

This was the question Miranda kept asking herself, and the longer she pondered on the subject, the less she understood why she turned down his offer. This could be a new start for her.

So, exactly two days later, Miranda called Phoenix Brooks and accepted his offer.

Chapter Seven

Phoenix

Of all of the things Phoenix imagined might happen on a boring Thursday night, Miranda accepting his bizarre offer to become his faux girlfriend wasn’t one of them.

Phoenix had been nervous about extending the offer ever since the foolish words came out of his mouth. He worried they would be leaked to the press and that people would think he’d really gone off the deep end. But, once Miranda was on board, Phoenix once against wondered if the idea was so crazy after all.

Both of them would be getting a second chance at life—a new start. He could revamp his career, all while spoiling a perfectly sweet girl and giving her the opportunity to really make something of her life. And all he needed form her was six months to a year of her time.

The two of them had met at his house the next morning for coffee to go over some guidelines of their new agreement and he was struck by how much more attractive she seemed outside of her

Her body was long and slender, and her blonde hair was thick and wavy. She had beautiful blue eyes that seemed to curve up at the sides as though they were permanently smiling. She wore a blue button-up blouse with white flowers on it and stretchy khaki-colored pants.

Phoenix asked her repeatedly, in all different ways, whether she was sure she was ready to commit to their deal and she said yes every single time.

Three days later, he had her back to his home to sign that paperwork.

“I can’t get over your house,” she gushed, walking down the wide hallway of his home.

“It used to be an old mill. We renovated it,” he explained.

He’d given Miranda a brief walkthrough of the house when she first came over, but now she was getting the grand tour.

The home was a one-hundred-and-thirty-nine-acre mountain retreat that had its own river and snow-capped views of the gorgeous mountain range.

Rachel had been hesitant to come and work at the ranch back in the day, but once he brought her into the house and she saw the marble floors and the mountainous backdrop, she was sold.

The house had the ultimate privacy, which was something Phoenix appreciated the more his musical career took off. It was a fully gated property that was outfitted with all of the best security gadgets.

The home itself was an architectural wonder—it was clad in copper, wood, glass, steel, and stone, giving it the perfect mix of textures. “Rustic of the future,” Rachel always used to say.

Phoenix continued with the tour, showing Miranda the eight en-suites, home theater, swimming pool, hot tub, his office, the home gym, and his recording room. He gave her three rooms on the far side of the house to do with as she pleased. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to share the common rooms with him if it made her uncomfortable.

The only rooms in the house he didn’t show her were his bedroom and the nursery, which was locked. Something about that felt too personal to share.

“I haven’t been back here since, you know, everything happened,” Phoenix explained curtly.

“It must be nice to come back here after being on the road for so long,” Miranda chirped happily, following him into his office. “It must get lonely, living out of a suitcase.”

“Mm,” he mumbled. “It’s not as relaxing as you might think.”

Sitting in his office, the two exchanged information. He asked her about her family, what she knew of them, and if anything about them might come back to haunt them in the press.

“I can’t be sure,” she said with a wince. “Like I said, I don’t know them. I never bothered to know them, but if the state took their child away, then yeah, they were probably unfit parents. Their past could be anything. Drugs, abuse,” she shrugged. “I don’t know, sorry.”

“That’s fine,” he said, scribbling a few things in his notebook.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but her lack of family worked in his favor. Not only did that mean he wouldn’t have to deal with in-laws, but there was less dirt to dig up on the poor girl.

Her past was compelling, and any journalist worth their weight would pick up on that. It would be a success story. Phoenix Brooks dates an orphan girl who wants to change the world.

The fact that he was having thoughts like this made his stomach turn. He didn’t want to dehumanize the girl, but he was desperate not to lose the career he’d worked so hard to build. He lost Rachel, and that was hard enough.

In return, Phoenix told Miranda about his siblings in order from oldest to youngest: Jett, Bennett, Colt, himself, Hunter, Jaxon, and his little sister Kennedy. He told her his parent’s names, Shannon and Roger, and what it was like growing up in a ranching family.

“We should go over the contract,” he said, shifting the papers toward her.

“You had one drawn up?” she said with an amused laugh. “Wow! This is so, like, official.”

“My lawyer wrote it up for me,” he said, leaving out the part where his lawyer rolled his eyes at the request and then let out a hearty laugh, dismissing the madness with a breathy, “You crazy rock stars.”

“You can have yours look it over, too, of course,” Phoenix said, nodding toward her.

“You seriously think I have a lawyer?” she snorted.

“I can hire one for you, or give you the money to hire one of your choosing, if you like. It’ll be good for you to have someone guide you through this process, so you feel comfortable.”

Miranda didn’t seem bothered one way or the other with any protocol. She skimmed over the contract and picked up the pen at her side.

Phoenix put his hand over the page, preventing her from signing, and urged her, “I encourage you to take this to someone.”

“I trust you,” she said happily.

He realized then how very young Miranda seemed. She was from a system that was consistently touted as hard and abusive, yet she showed the sweet naivety of someone who had been brought up sheltered by loving parents.

Luckily for her, Phoenix wasn’t intent on ripping her off in this deal.

“Then at least let me explain it to you,” he offered. “The contract says we’ll stay together at a minimum of six months, and we can stay under the contract for up to a year, so long as all of the stipulations are met.”

“What are the stipulations?” she asked.

“You are getting a monthly allowance to pay off your debts, that way we can put the brakes on the government getting involved in your life, but the sum of the debt does not get paid in full until the contract is over.”

Miranda fixed her hair into a high ponytail and nodded. He hoped she was paying attention.

“There is to be no dating other people, not even in secret,” he said. “No cheating. Nothing that would hinder my reputation like drugs, public intoxication, no racist rants, no car accidents, reckless spending, no selling stories to tabloids, no stealing.”

“No murder,” she added, chuckling to herself.

Phoenix didn’t laugh. “Murder is on the list,” he said, deadpanned, “But I’m not expecting any trouble from you.”

“And I live here with you the whole time?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

Living together made sense. He wanted the public to know that things between them were serious. It also helped him keep tabs on Miranda until he got to know her and trust her, better. “Oh, also,” he blurted out as he opened up his desk drawer. “You’ll have to tell me how you feel about this, but I thought it would look better if we were engaged and not just dating.”

With that, he handed her a two-carat emerald-shaped diamond ring with a white gold band.

Miranda’s eyes lit up at the sparkling jewelry. “Wow! We move fast!”

“Yes, we do. Because we’re in love,” he winked.

“Sure, fine,” she said, nodding and slipping the ring onto her slender finger. “Whatever you think. I can upgrade from girlfriend to wifey-to-be if it makes things easier.”

“Good,” he said. “If they ask, say I asked you...” he trailed off, thinking.

“Over breakfast,” she said.

“Over breakfast?” he repeated in bemused disbelief. “Sounds boring, doesn’t it?”

“No,” she shrugged. “It sounds real. Not everyone plans this unbelievable, expansive proposal. Sometimes people just look at each other and go, ‘Ya wanna?’”

“People are going to expect some romantic story,” he said nervously. Especially considering the wealth he possessed and the connections he had, though it felt arrogant to say so out loud.

“Trust me,” she said, playing with the ring and spinning it around her finger. “You proposing over breakfast here at the house is going to sound plenty real.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “Over breakfast then.”

“So,” she continued, pushing out her lips. “Presumably I am seen with you out in public and all that.”

“Right,” he nodded.

“So, do we kiss? Hold hands? What’s the expected level of PDA?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable doing. But, obviously, if we are supposed to be a believable couple, then we should,” he bit his lip uncomfortably, unsure how to end his sentence, “be affectionate,” he concluded.

Before Phoenix had time to process what he had just said, Miranda leaned across the desk, tilted his face up, and pressed her lips against his.

He felt a rush of blood pulse through his body and a wave of sickness crash through his stomach. Her lips were soft and warm and explored his with a shy curiosity he wasn’t used to.

Then again, he wasn’t used to kissing anyone. The last girl he’d kissed was Rachel, and somehow, despite everything she had done to him, he felt guilty for letting this happen. Kissing Miranda, no matter how briefly, felt like cheating. It felt like he was being disloyal to her in the worst way possible.

“Affectionate in public,” he clarified, breathless as she pulled back from his mouth.

“I know that,” she said with a blush before sitting back down across from him. “But we can’t be all awkward in public! We have to make it look like we’ve done it before.”

He was stunned—barely able to comprehend what she was saying to him. “That’s smart.”

“And what about your agents?” she said, as though she hadn’t just done one of the most intimate things possible with a man she barely knew. “What do I have to do to sell them on me as being your perfect partner?”

“They want a country girl. Someone who has hometown values. Someone who...” he stammered, twirling his finger in the air.

“Tamed you?”

He nodded. “Precisely.”

Eventually, after insisting Miranda have the contract looked over by a lawyer, she signed on the dotted line, and just like that, the two of them were affianced.

It took some time to get used to coming home to Miranda in his house. It felt strange having some other woman in his space, but thankfully the house was plenty big enough to get away and spend some time by himself if he needed to.

Part of him thought their relationship would be strictly professional. That they would go out in public, and when they came home, they would retire to their quarters, but he quickly found that Miranda had no intention of letting that happened.

She wanted to be his friend. When he came home late from work, she had dinner prepared. To his surprise, the food was very good.

Miranda cooked a lot of food that he had when he was in Texas. There were a lot of homemade buns, buttery cornbread, tender meats, potatoes, vegetable casseroles, and all of the Mexican food you could imagine.

His mother would absolutely love Miranda if she were his real girlfriend.

The two had taken to spending most nights together. Sometimes they would sit down for dinner, sometimes they would watch a show, but mostly Phoenix would lightly pluck the strings on his guitar and write while Miranda asked him questions.

“What was your major?” he asked her one night in return to a serious of get-to-know-you questions she had been asking him.

“Business,” she said, watching him in his stool as he tuned his Taylor. “Which didn’t work out too well for me, clearly.”

“Did you know that ninety percent of start-ups fail?” he said absent-mindedly, not even looking at her.

“Is this supposed to be a twisted version of an encouraging speech?” she giggled.

“No. It’s me saying that not everybody gets it right on their first try, but that doesn’t mean you should give up.”

“Did you get it on your first try?” she asked. “With music, I mean?”

He looked up curiously. “It depends on how you look at it, I guess.”

“How do you mean?”

“I got signed the first time a label came to see me play. That’s pretty lucky. But nobody noticed me until I was twenty-four and established in a completely different career,” he explained. “So, it depends on how you look at it.”

“And how do you look at it, Mr. Brooks?” she flirted. “Are you a half-empty or half-full kind of guy?”

“These days?” he posed. “Half-empty.”

Miranda shook her head in fake disappointment. “What about when you were younger?”

“The same,” he said, and she smiled.

“Me too,” she offered.

“Then at least I’m in good company.”

“So, what do you like to do when you’re not ranchin’ and playin’ gee-tar?” she asked, putting on a country voice.

“Please, never attempt a Southern accent again,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’m serious! What are your hobbies?”

“My hobby is my guitar,” he said, gesturing toward the instrument in his hands.

“What else?”

Phoenix looked down and plucked the B string before turning the machine head to tune it. He shrugged at the question and said, “That’s it.”

“You have one hobby?” she repeated in surprise, making an exaggerated facial expression. “That’s it? You don’t like motorcycles, skiing, horseback riding?”

“I was never the rancher, believe it or not.”

“Your other brothers love it?” she asked.

Phoenix set his jaw. “Some of them,” he said carefully. “I don’t think it was necessarily anyone’s dream. Maybe Colt’s. Maybe Jax’s.”

He knew Hunter had always looked forward to owning his ranch. He’d even requested the Wyoming location on his thirteenth birthday, but Phoenix didn’t know if Miranda was ready to hear any of his Hunter-related-rants quite yet.

“For the rest of us, it was just something we were expected to do,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong; I did it. I was happy to do it. But music was my passion.”

“Sounds like you really found your calling then.”

“Yeah. Sounds like I did,” he said with affection. “Rachel was the real rancher. She was so against the move to Utah. We fought about it nonstop. Then once she got here, she turned into this horse-riding, nature-loving cowgirl. It was this incredible transformation,” he thought.

It was a beautiful thing, until it wasn’t—until their love and Rachel’s draw to the great outdoors turned into an explosion of resentment.

“What about you?” he asked. “Any hobbies?”

“I like basketball. To play, not to watch,” she corrected playfully.

“Not a sports girl?” he asked.

“Eh,” she said unenthused. “I love to read. Love true crime. I love kids.”

Phoenix felt his heart lilt at the mention of children. He looked back down to his guitar and strummed through a D-chord, listening to the soft and bitter way the music hit the air.

“Sorry,” she said bashfully, rubbing her arm.

“For what? You’re allowed to like children.”

“Right,” she said quietly, unconvinced.

“So, I’ve told you about my family, and I know you say you don’t have much to share on that front, but what do you remember? Do you remember how old you were when you were put into foster care?”

Miranda nodded. “I was put into foster care when I was three years old.”

“That’s tough,” he said.

The blonde pulled in a relaxed breath. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she said, her tone betraying her smile.

“Do you remember anything about your parents?”

“No. Not really.” She shook her head. “Flashes of faces. Sometimes certain smells or weather can catch me just right, and I get a hint of this old life I had, but I don’t even know if it’s real. I could have just imagined it.”

“They didn’t sign the paperwork? Nothing like that?” he asked.

“I was once told that my mother was being monitored by CPS and eventually, they ruled her unfit, and I became a ward of the state, but who’s to say if that was even true?”

“You never asked to see any files?” he asked. “You were never curious about where you came from?”

“No way,” she said emphatically. “I figure if they didn’t want me, then I don’t want them. There’s no point in finding them now, showing up on their doorstep and trying to convince them that I’m this great person that they missed out on.” She gave a sad laugh and said, “I mean, look at me.”

Phoenix looked her over. She sat on the couch in an oversized pullover that she had stretched over her crossed legs. Her face was bare of any makeup, and she had her blonde hair pulled up into a gigantic messy bun. There was a softness about Miranda that he liked. She was loud sometimes, sure. Overly chatty, which he wasn’t completely unfamiliar with. But with those overbearing qualities came a sweet sensitivity that he appreciated.

“I’ll admit, I don’t know you that well,” he said gingerly, “But you seem pretty great to me.”

Chapter Eight

Miranda

When Miranda first accepted the responsibly of being Phoenix Brooks PR-princess, she thought it would be weird. She thought it would feel phony interacting with him or that he would be this stern, starchy professional. But in reality, it wasn’t weird at all.

The nights they spent together were fun, actually. Though he didn’t show it at the ranch or in the media, Phoenix had a lighthearted side to him. He was quiet, sure, but she seemed to break through his barrier and even got him laughing on a few occasions.

Miranda was well-versed in moving from house to house, given the time she’d spent in foster care. Because of this, living in Phoenix’s house didn’t even feel all that strange. After the first awkward night, she felt right at home and had quickly familiarized herself with the coffee cabinet and snack drawers.

The only thing the two of them didn’t see eye-to-eye on, so far anyway, was Phoenix’s request that she leave her job at the ranch.

“I’m just not sure if it’s the best thing for you to be working at the ranch anymore,” he said one night as they sat on the couch together.

“What? Why not?” she said in surprise. The thought that she might have to leave her job hadn’t even been a glimmer of a thought in her mind.

“I think it might look inappropriate if I’m dating one of my employees. Being in a position of authority over you might make it look like I’m—”

“Using your powers for evil,” Miranda nodded. “I get it.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

Miranda raised both brows and looked down at the glass in her hands, considering whether she had a right to be indignant about losing her job when Phoenix was offering her a million dollars.

Still, she shrugged and said, “Believe it or not, I love working at the ranch.”

“Cleaning?” he asked, sounding a little too harsh.

“Don’t judge!”

He raised his hands humbly and said, “I wasn’t. It’s just surprising, that’s all.”

“Yes. I like cleaning. It makes me feel calm and collected. And I like working with Birdie.”

Phoenix smirked. “All you ever tell me is how different you and Birdie are.”

“I know, but that’s what I love about her. She makes me a softer, sweeter person.”

He nodded. “And what do you do for her?”

Miranda gave a mischievous smile and bragged, “I like to believe that I give her a harder edge. You know? Remind her that the world isn’t always puppies and rainbows.”

Phoenix chuckled. “Sounds balanced.”

To Miranda’s surprise, Birdie had become something of a fixture in her life. The two were so different and so destined not to get along that both of them fought for the friendship. Just the other day, Birdie had told Miranda how she had looked up missing person videos online of her own free will! And, while Miranda would never admit this to anyone but Birdie, her new favorite thing was to curl up with a blanket on the couch, a hot tea in her hand, and read through overly-dramatic romance novels one after the other.

“I’ll miss her, that’s all,” she said with a shrug. “I feel like I would be letting down ‘the team’ if I just stopped working with her.”

“I’ll figure something out for you,” Phoenix said dismissively.

“Both of us?”

“If you want to work with Birdie and she’s happy moving, then sure. I can make it happen. In the meantime, let this be your last day working at the ranch, alright?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Miranda could concede that Phoenix had a point about not dating an employee, but she suspected that his decision to have her stop working at the ranch had more to do with her position as a maid than anything else.

The Rockstar and the Maid may have made for a great beach read, but it probably wouldn’t be the sexy tabloid fodder she was looking for.

Birdie, however, didn’t see it that way. That morning, after Miranda told her it would be her last day, Birdie spun around on her heel in shock and exclaimed, “I don’t understand; what’s happening? You’re just leaving? This is so sudden!”

“Look,” Miranda bit her lip nervously and continued tying up the vacuum cord. “Phoenix and I took an unexpected turn, and we’re seeing each other now.”

“What?” Birdie’s brows shot up, wrinkling her otherwise smooth and creamy pale forehead. “I thought you said he just wanted to be friends!”

“Yeah, well, apparently he wanted more than friendship,” she shrugged.

Birdie didn’t even pretend to keep working. She folded her bottom lip over in an exaggerated pout and whined, “And so now you’re quitting?”

“Don’t worry! We’ll still see each other all the time.”

Birdie reached out and weakly pushed her co-worker. “We’d better,” she said sadly. “I know it’s only been a month but you’re one of my favorite people ever.”

“We’ll hang out all the time. I swear,” Miranda laughed. “Now come on, help me pack up.”

The brunette sighed and began stashing their spray bottles back into their cleaning cart. “How did all of this happen with Phoenix?” she asked.

“We spent a couple of nights talking and we just hit it off,” Miranda said, hoping it sounded casual.

“Mrs. I-don’t-like-country-music!”

Miranda laughed and raised a finger, insisting, “And nothing about that has changed!”

Birdie smiled, and the two of them continued picking up in the room. When they were done, they began packing up to go to the next lodge for cleaning.

“Is that why you’re leaving the ranch?” Birdie asked, then clarified, “Because of Phoenix?”

“Something like that. The whole boss-employee-affair thing is so played out, you know?” she said with a wink.

“Right,” Birdie said skeptically. “What happens if it doesn’t work out? Why give up your job for someone you just met?”

“Something tells me we’re both pretty serious about each other,” she said.

“What?” Birdie didn’t hide her expression of shock. “You were the one who said people can’t fall in love after a month of dating! And you’ve known him, what? Two weeks?”

“And once again, you have proven me wrong about love and the ways of the world,” Miranda chuckled. “Happy?”

She thought Birdie would play along—maybe even use it as an opportunity to gloat. Instead, she went deadly silent.

“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked.

“I just hope you’re being careful, Miranda. His reputation—”

Miranda plugged her ears and sung out, “La-la-la-la-la!”

Birdie couldn’t help but smile at the action. She pulled one of Miranda’s arms down and asked, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to hear about his reputation! I know, I know. He went on some binge-drinking session and got caught by the paparazzi. But I don’t want to hear about what the tabloids have to say about him,” Miranda insisted.

She had spent her whole life having a chart of her good and bad deeds given to families and caretakers and was sick of people judging other people by a record of something they did when they were at their lowest low.

She wouldn’t do the same thing to Phoenix.

“You seriously haven’t looked up anything about him?” Birdie asked.

“I refuse! The only thing I want to know about him is what he chooses to tell me. I just want this to be a normal relationship.”

“Normal? He’s not just ‘some guy,’ Miranda.”

“Meaning?” she asked.

Birdie narrowed her brows. “Meaning, he’s not someone you just casually date. You do realize that dating him comes with his world, right? He’s made no secret that he’s still carrying a torch for his ex.”

The brunette probably wasn’t wrong. The Rachel-memorabilia around the house was overwhelming. “To be fair, it still hurts me to think about my ex, but it doesn’t mean I want to jump back into a relationship with him. It takes time to heal from stuff, but it doesn’t mean that you should stop moving forward.”

Birdie nodded. “I get that, but what about the rumors of drugs and—”

“Don’t! Want! To! Hear! It!” Miranda enunciated.

“Just be careful, okay? If you’re ever seen out with him, it’s going to be this crazy media coverage, and I don’t want it to come as a shock to you.”

Miranda snorted. “Do people seriously care that much?”

“Trust me. Do not be seen in public with this guy unless you’re serious about being with him.”

The two of them pulled up to the Riverbend Lodges, a set of ten rooms inside the beautiful white stone and wood barn-style lodge. The rooms were each fitted with wood-burning river rock fireplaces, glass doors, and handcrafted lodgepole queen beds with plush down comforters.

As they began stripping the massive amount of bedding from the room, Birdie perked up with a meek tone and said, “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No,” Miranda said absent-mindedly.

Despite answering her question, Birdie looked at Miranda expectantly. She looked at her for so long that Miranda began to laugh.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked, then hopped across the room and jumped on Birdie’s back, hugging her from behind. “Birdie, you’re like the mom I never had, which I realize is a weird thing to say. But you’re like my lecturing mama, trying desperately to keep me out of trouble. Always cautious, but always laced with love.”

Birdie giggled, trying desperately to keep her friend balanced on her back. “That is just about the cutest thing anyone has ever said to me!”

As it turned out, Birdie was right about the public being an integral part of her relationship with Phoenix.

She understood that this was the point of them getting together in the first place, but the reality of it shook her to her core.

Phoenix asked Miranda to dinner that night. The two of them went to Vi—an Asian fusion restaurant downtown. The media had gotten wind that Phoenix was going to be spotted out in public.

She and the country music star pulled up in a black car with tinted windows, and when they emerged from the back seats, they were met with a barrage of white camera flashes. Bursts of light shot off, one after the other, and Miranda felt dizzy. She was overwhelmed and shaking as they walked toward the entrance of the restaurant, but Phoenix didn’t miss a beat.

He held his arm down to help her out of the car, and as they walked, he set a steadying hand on her lower back.

Once inside, they were taken to a private room in the back of the restaurant, away from the other paying customers.

The stares Phoenix received when walked into a crowded place—restaurant, grocery store, the ranch—were unmistakable. There was admiration and awe, though whether for his country career or his massively successful family ranch, Miranda couldn’t be sure.

“Are you alright?” he asked when they were finally situated at their table.

“Yeah. I think I just need a second,” she said with a breath, pushing her hand against her chest. She could feel her heart pulsing against her palm and couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Phoenix to try to run a simple errand.

“That’s what it’s like,” he said.

“All of the time?”

“It depends on where you go,” he explained. “Some places in LA are known for celebrity sightings. Some musicians will go there just because they know there will be press. Sometimes it doesn’t matter where you go—coffee shop, burger joint, five-star restaurant—they’ll find you.”

She nodded and accepted a menu from their waitress. “Does it ever bother you?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I first got signed, I was pretty shy. I was always a quiet kid, you know? So, to have people always in your face, asking you questions and commenting on how you look, it was overwhelming.” He paused. “But then I started to like it.”

Miranda watched him with interest, then frowned. She knew some people loved the limelight, but she hadn’t expected Phoenix to be one of them.

“It meant that I was doing something right with my career. If people wanted to see me, it meant they loved my music.”

“And now?” she asked.

“Now I hate it,” he said, and she instantly felt the rock in her stomach settle. “Notoriety is good when things in your life are going right, but the moment you make a mistake, everyone is cheering for you to sink further down. But it’s a necessary evil.”

Chapter Nine

Phoenix

With the signing of a new contract and an agreement for another three records, Phoenix’s writer’s block had lifted. He’d spent days going through old notebooks of songs he’d written as a teenager and during his first years at the ranch and on the road and found a couple of songs that were worth revisiting.

They were painful to read at times. Reliving the ephemeral feelings of falling in love with Rachel and knowing the bitterness that the whole experience would bring.

Phoenix had also been writing new songs and was starting to get a proper feel for what he wanted his record to be like.

Usually, when he wrote, he would go into a self-induced hibernation. He didn’t talk to his friends, family, or even Rachel all that much until his process was complete and felt he had emptied his soul of everything little feeling it had been holding onto.

Rachel told him it made him difficult to talk to.

“You say what’s on your mind in songs, but you never say them to me,” she’d said.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t give her enough time or know how to communicate as well as she did, but Phoenix didn’t want to write run-of-the-mill songs.

He knew other artists who wrote albums by going into the studio and working with a producer and perhaps another writer, writing on the spot and recording the song the same day. They would pump out songs this way until the record was complete. It was efficient, sure. But it had no heart.

If keeping his emotions bottled up until they all came spilling out through his guitar was the way for him to write music that mattered, then that was what he was going to do.

At the beginning of their relationship, Rachel loved hearing him work through and process his songs. But near the end, she always let him have his space. She understood that he needed it.

Miranda did not.

After two days of Phoenix locking himself away in his home-studio and seeing her only in the mornings and evenings, she came traipsing into his studio without hesitation.

It annoyed him at first, but she brought an energy to the room that made him feel comfortable.

It also helped that he knew Miranda had no interest in country music, so there was no need to try to impress her with his skills.

He sat on a drumming stool with his Taylor in his hands, plucking through the chords C, Am, F, and C again in repetition.

Miranda was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a polka-dotted tunic with black tights.

“Do you have any nicknames?” she asked when his playing lulled.

He smirked and shook his head with amusement. “You don’t get any nicknames with a name like Phoenix.”

“Sure you do!” she insisted cheerfully. “People could call you Fi, or Nix.”

He drew his brows together in a playful frown. “Nobody would ever call me that,” he deadpanned.

“I would,” she teased.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Who is the most fascinating person you’ve ever met?” she asked. The girl was full of endless questions nearly every waking hour of the day.

Thankfully, he had an answer to this question right off the bat. “Ender Eugene.”

Miranda’s eyes went wide as she mused, “You knew someone who had the first name Ender? Seriously?”

“He was this brilliant jazz musician,” he said, setting his palm across the neck of his guitar to mute the string. “I met him in New York at this hole-in-the-wall club. He was one of the most talented people I have ever met. He had that classic, old-school voice. That truly talented, gravely, soulful jazz sound.”

“Was he signed?”

“That’s that thing,” he said excitedly. “He wasn’t. Everybody wants this guy. Labels have been after him since the sixties, but he won’t sign. He won’t budge.”

“Why not?”

Phoenix shrugged. “He’s a carpenter. That’s what he likes to do. Music is a hobby to him.”

“Couldn’t he make a record and just not tour?” she asked.

“He could, but he refuses to. He told me he was afraid that if he got signed to a record label that he wouldn’t love it anymore. He said he was afraid he wouldn’t be heard and would start to resent his talent.”

Miranda twirled her fingers in the air and asked, “Wouldn’t be heard as in, no one would buy his albums?”

Phoenix shook his head. “As in, the message of his songs wouldn’t be felt as deeply on someone’s cassette, CD player, iPod, as they would be in the basement of that sweaty, cramped, drafty jazz bar.”

“And what about that fascinated you?” she asked.

A smile swept across Miranda’s lips, and he suddenly became very aware that he had kissed those lips—many times. And out of nowhere, he wondered what it would be like if he took their sweet, simple, safe kisses and slipped his tongue gently into her mouth.

His back straightened at the thought.

Save for the first time she’d kissed him, Phoenix had never given much thought to these small, public, intimate moments with Miranda because they didn’t feel intimate at all. They felt more like a job than anything else, but throughout the last couple of days of having her in his home-studio, he was beginning to see her in a new light.

“Phoenix?” she asked, noting his distraction.

He felt his face go hot, and he looked back down at his guitar. “I would have given up anything for my music,” he said. “I guess, depending on how you look at it, I did give up everything for my music. And here Ender was, the most talented musician I’ve ever met, and the last thing he wanted was fame.”

Miranda looked up at him, reflecting on what he had just said, and Phoenix asked, “What about you? Who’s the most fascinating person you’ve ever met?”

“My fourth foster mom, for sure,” she said emphatically.

“And why’s that?”

“She had nine dogs.” She paused. “Nine!”

Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s seriously your answer?”

And that was the thing about Miranda—just when he thought she was going to give a deep and philosophical answer to something, she would respond with something completely unexpected.

“Who in their right mind wants to take care of nine dogs? They were all Dobermans. So sleek, so cool, so great with us kids. But I mean...nine? Nine dogs!” she insisted.

“Did she live on a farm? Big property?”

“Nope,” she said, letting her ‘P’ pop against her lips. “She lived in an apartment.”

His brows shot up. “That is a lot of dogs.”

Miranda nodded, then leaned backward until she was stretching against the floor. “I think I’m going to head to bed. It’s getting pretty late.”

Phoenix’s eyes darted up toward the clock. It was nearly midnight. “I’ll be up for a bit longer,” he said.

“I take it you’re a night person?” she asked.

“I write better at night.”

She smiled. “Ah. That’s why you’ve been burning the midnight oil.”

“I’m just trying to finish up a couple more songs before we start recording.”

Miranda sat up and looked at the scatterings of leather-bound notebooks and ripped up pages on the ground before her. They were all songs or failed attempts at poetry.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing toward them, and for the first time since he met her, Phoenix felt nervous.

He watched her pick up the song he was currently working on, her eyes skimming the lyrics.

Keep her heart into the night, she keeps you on the phone

But no matter how hard you try, you know you’re waking up alone

“These are beautiful,” she said, then held another page up to him and said, “This one.”

“I saw the red of your heart, the soul of you,” Miranda read. “A red-eye flight and I was there too. We lived like we were made of glass, shattered everything. I thought I knew what love was until I heard your heartbeat. You took it all away, now I won’t ever sleep.”

Phoenix was so used to having other people read and critique his songs that he was mostly numb to it, but his words coming off of Miranda’s lips made him feel a swell of discomfort.

“I can’t get that one to work,” he nearly cringed. “It’s...I’m not good enough to write it out the way I feel it inside.”

Miranda blinked. “That’s one of the most profound things I have ever heard. I wish I were a writer, like you. Maybe I could understand that feeling better.”

“It’s like, this weight inside my whole body. I know the song. I feel it. Its melody is endless. But I’m just not talented enough or not able to fully comprehend those feelings yet.”

“What’s it about?” she asked.

The song she was referring to was one he’d written just the other day called “I’ll Think of You in New York” that he had written about the miscarriage.

“Just something that happened in my life,” he simplified.

“Sing one for me,” she asked.

Phoenix ran his food through some of the pages until he found one of the songs he felt more confident about. He played the song without hesitation, and when he was finished, Miranda began clapping.

“That was amazing!” she cheered, then raised her arm to him and said, “I have goosebumps right now. Feel!”

Because it was Miranda, he knew that she wasn’t just making a flattering announcement. She actually wanted him to feel her arm, so he did. He leaned forward and ran two fingers over the raised bumps along her soft skin and felt his heart lilt with excitement.

“You’ve been so good with all of this,” he said to her. “The paparazzi, the questions, the secrecy. Living with me, of all things.”

“Hey, you’re not so bad to be around,” she said with a grin. “You’re kind of awesome to be around.”

Phoenix raised his brows in surprise, prompting Miranda to ask, “What?”

“No, nothing,” he smirked. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard anyone...” he trailed off.

“What? Say how awesome you are?” she scoffed. “You should work with Birdie. She says it just about every day.”

“Birdie is a fan,” he corrected. “You are not.”

“Hey! I’m a fan of yours!”

He shook a finger at her. “You’re not a country music fan.”

“But your stuff is amazing.”

“It’s just surprising to hear it from someone who isn’t...on my team, shall we say.”

“I’m not a ‘yes-man,’” she said, and he nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Never will be,” Miranda announced proudly.

“So, look,” he began nervously, standing from his stool and walking across the studio to a cabinet drawer. “I heard what you said about wanting to work at the ranch, and I’ve been thinking, what about this?”

Phoenix walked back over to Miranda and handed her a file folder of ideas for the ranch.

“What is it?” she asked, shocked as she stared down at the file in her hands.

He laughed. “Open it.”

She did, and inside was a plan for a new program sponsored by, but not held at, the ranch. Brookside would sponsor a two-week summer camp for troubled youths where they could have some of the same experiences that people paid for at the ranch as well as take some time to relax. Not only would this ensure the underprivileged didn’t miss out on the same summer activities their friends had, but it would also keep them out of trouble. For two weeks, at least.

He’d been thinking about it ever since Miranda told him about her desire to do more for people.

Phoenix gave to charity, and he was proud of his ranch, but he wasn’t personally involved in either of those things. Miranda inspired him to give back in a way that was meaningful to the town of Willowdale.

“Phoenix, this is…” Miranda stammered, tears welling in her eyes as she read through the various activities and operations of the camp. “This is…I don’t even know what to say! This is wonderful.”

“I’m glad you think so because I want you to run it,” he said, then added, “If you want to.”

Her mouth gaped. “Are you serious?”

“Who better for the job than someone who has been where these kids have been? I want you to host this, be a guidance counselor, host a ranch experience. Whatever you want to do, the position is yours.”

Miranda pulled in a heap of breath and then seemed to cry it back out as she said, “Seriously?”

He smiled. “Yes. I want you to be a part of the ranch and my life, but I want something that’s a little more your style. You can even hire Birdie in some capacity if you want.”

“When would this happen?”

“I’m hoping we’ll have our first round of kids before the summer. Hopefully late spring?” he suggested.

Miranda didn’t wait for another second to thank him. She sprung up from the floor and threw her arms around Phoenix, pulling him into a warm hug.

The joy he felt was immeasurable. He hadn’t felt that good in a very long time, which only proved to him that Rachel might have been right about his behavior. Ever since getting signed, he had only focused on himself. He’d become addicted to the limelight and the recognition of his music to the point that he’d forgotten about Rachel and her dreams. He’d forgotten to be her partner.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want that with Miranda. He wanted to be giving, to show her he was listening, too, and to share something real with her—even if their relationship was only pretend.

Chapter Ten

Miranda

Phoenix pressed his lips against Miranda’s in a casual kiss as they walked downtown on the main street to a coffee bar. It was a simple, sweet kiss for a sweet couple, and Miranda couldn’t get enough.

She knew the kiss was not for her benefit, but for the public.

Various onlookers—paparazzi, fans, curious bystanders—snapped photos of the couple kissing, and Miranda knew the photo would end up in some trashy magazine. But then again, that was the point of their affectionate outings.

Miranda knew that there was nothing in Phoenix’s soul that drew his lips to hers, but the way they moved softly against her skin sent her heart racing.

She had been so entranced with her fake relationship with Phoenix, so interested in breaking his barrier and getting to know him, that she realized she hadn’t thought about William in days.

It used to be that everything reminded her of William—the snowy weather, morning oatmeal, the smell of coffee breath. It used to be that songs that used to make her happy, the ones that reminded her of William, made her cry.

William consumed her daily thoughts until now. Now all she could think of was Phoenix, their deal, the ranch, and the amazing future that was in store for her.

After grabbing the largest mocha from the coffee shop, Miranda walked back home with Phoenix, hand in hand and fully caffeinated.

“I think it’s important that we talk about the emotional illusion that we’re creating,” he said as they walked through the impressive front doors.

Miranda set her drink down on a hallway table and peeled her thick winter coat off of her body. It was freezing outside, but she had worked up a sweat during the walk that made it difficult to get the fabric off of her arms.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“When you connect with someone on a physical level—holding hands, kissing, embracing—your body releases a hormone called oxytocin,” he said, helping her coat off her and hanging it.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled.

“This hormone is responsible for the promotion of emotional bonding. It makes you feel attached,” he explained, guiding her into the massive living room.

“Okay.”

He turned to her as he walked, giving her a pointed look as he said, “And I don’t want either of us getting attached.”

Apparently, Phoenix couldn’t just say, “Don’t catch feelings.” He had to phrase everything like he was writing poetry about it, talking about their “emotional illusion.”

Miranda could feel her cheeks pinken, but she knew it was important not to react to what he just said.

“Right, of course,” she said.

“I think it’s important that we don’t let the lines of the job we’re doing blur with our personal feelings. I know you’re still in pain about your ex and that whole situation, and I have a very complicated relationship with Rachel,” he said simply, taking a seat down on the plush couch and pulling his large latte into his lap.

It was then Miranda realized that as her feelings for William were fading away, Phoenix’s affection for Rachel was still as strong as ever. If anything, he said nicer things about his ex now than he did when they first made their agreement.

“Completely agreed,” she said casually. “I don’t think either of us is looking for, you know, that, right now.”

“You don’t think it’s going to be a problem? Pretending to be a couple all the time?”

“I mean,” she snorted, “you’re not that likable.”

Phoenix stared at her, perplexed, then burst into a laugh. “Trust me. I know.”

The two of them spent the afternoon watching a documentary, which to her great surprise, Phoenix watched with interest.

William used to talk through shows and movies, and it would drive Miranda crazy. She always felt on edge, like he was bored or that he was going to end up talking through an important scene.

Phoenix wasn’t like that. He listened to the media he consumed. He also turned his phone off when they had nights in.

The pair sat on opposite ends of the couch, but halfway through the documentary, Miranda got lonely. She stretched her legs out across the couch and began poking Phoenix with her toes, trying to get his attention.

Without looking over, Phoenix pulled her legs onto his lap and began rubbing her feet.

Her heart fluttered with excitement. She could already feel herself starting to like him.

Phoenix was so sweet, so quiet, and so troubled. She knew being troubled wasn’t a good reason to like someone. In fact, it was probably a really good reason to go running in the opposite direction, but she was drawn to his chaos.

Even though her feelings for him grew day by day, she realized that it was likely a schoolgirl-crush and nothing more. It was nothing—just excitement. After all, he was helping her get out of debt. She felt free and excited to live this new, different, highly romanticized lifestyle—and the kissing didn’t hurt either.

Things were going great with his public image. The press was excited about their relationship and requesting interviews left and right, but Phoenix wouldn’t commit to anyone until his agent gave him the all-clear.

After weeks of being seen out in public, holding hands, tasteful Instagram posts, and releasing tidbits about Miranda to the media, they still hadn’t heard a thing from Phoenix’s team.

It wasn’t until they were out at a bar one night that everything changed.

The bar was a hole in the wall with a lot of character. There were old velvet booths in circular shapes and tin signs from car companies and garages pinned to the walls.

“I love this place. I’ve seen a lot of talent here,” Phoenix said, setting down a beer and a glass of rose for Miranda.

“You’ve been here a lot?” she asked, crossing her legs.

“Oh yeah. We used to come here all of the time,” he said.

Although he didn’t say her name, Miranda knew that he was talking about Rachel. He was always talking about Rachel.

This woman was such a big presence in his life from childhood until now, so it was no surprise that her spirit ghosted through every street corner, every bar, restaurant, and room at the Brooks ranch—but Miranda didn’t expect to feel so overwhelmed by this woman who left her partner for his brother.

The two of them watched as a young girl in her early twenties played on the bar stage, belting out an old country song and filling the dive with her beautiful voice.

“What’s the strangest food you’ve ever eaten?” Miranda asked, leaning toward Phoenix.

The two sat on opposite sides of a round high-top, and Phoenix reached his hand across the warped-wood table, looping his fingers through hers.

“Probably durian,” he said.

“What’s durian?” she asked with a laugh.

“It’s a fruit. I had it when I was touring Asia. It sort of looks like a green porcupine and it has this unholy smell. I’m talking, this thing smells so bad, the scent stays on your clothes and your skin and no amount of scrubbing is going to get it out. But if you can get past the smell, the fruit is creamy and sweet.”

“Oh, gross!” she giggled. She had been expecting him to say something a little less exotic, like a kale smoothie or something.

“Yeah, one of my band members while we were there, he ate white ant egg soup,” he laughed.

Miranda shuddered at the mental image. “Did he like it?”

Phoenix shrugged. “He didn’t order it again. I guess it’s more of a talking point.”

“Or a macho thing,” she suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. What about you? Any weird foods making the rounds in your life?”

Miranda fixed her blonde hair behind her ear and bashfully admitted, “I mean, I was going to say I tried pineapple pie once, but your weird fruit and ant eggs kind of squashed my experience.”

“What is weird about pineapple pie?”

“Um?” she said, drawing the word out. “Are you kidding me? It’s pineapple.” She paused. “In a pie!”

“And pineapple doesn’t belong in pie form?”

Miranda tapped her nose. “Bingo.”

The girl playing in front of them was sweet. Her voice carried easily through the small venue. While she didn’t have a big range, her vocals were pretty. She played three songs and then chugged half a bottle of water before returning her lips to the microphone.

The girl gave a lazy strum across her guitar strings, playing out a G and then plucking against the harmonious sound. It was clear she didn’t know Phoenix was in the audience, because to open the second half of her set, she began playing one of his songs.

Miranda watched her faux fiancé to see if he would react, but he didn’t so much as smirk at the girl. He didn’t seem flattered or embarrassed by the girl playing his song; he just sipped at his drink.

After the first chorus, a couple of people started pointing Phoenix out in the small crowd. This wasn’t the type of bar where you would find a gushing fan, but the crowd’s interest had been piqued.

Noticing this, Phoenix’s demeanor changed. He smiled and stood up from his chair. The female singer’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t break from her song. She was committed to finishing what she had started.

Phoenix began clapping, encouraging the crowd, and suddenly he became this charming front man. This lovable people-person who was cheering her on as he approached the stage.

He was on.

Phoenix gestured toward the stage, raising his brows as if to say, “May I?” and the girl nodded in return.

He walked up next to her, and the girl’s face lit up in a pink-apple blush. He neared the microphone, and they sang, “so corner me, up against your wall, tell me you love me, and we’ll say it all,” and the whole bar exploded with cheers and shouts.

And that was the thing about Phoenix. He was so quiet, so thoughtful. He barely reciprocated conversations sometimes. But when he was in music mode, he knew exactly how to be the life of the party and draw a crowd together.

Miranda watched them play out the song and could hear the nerves in the young girl’s vocals, but they sang beautifully together. Miranda couldn’t help but give the pair a standing ovation when the song ended. The rest of the crowd followed suit, standing, clapping, and hooting at the two singers as Phoenix returned to his seats.

No doubt, this sweet event would be all over social media in the morning.

When he returned to the table, it took the bar a few more songs to calm down. The two of them spent the rest of the night listening to music and talking with fans, and every time he whispered in her ear or held her hand, her heart fluttered.

“You’re so quiet,” she said on the way to the ranch house.

“So I’ve been told,” he smirked.

“You come alive when you play.”

“I’ve been told that, too,” he said.

“Do you think one of the reasons you’re so quiet is because you are from such a big family? I know you said that some of your siblings could have a real presence.”

He rolled his neck from side to side, thinking on it. “No,” he finally concluded. “I think if I were an only child, I would have been just as quiet.”

Miranda doubted that. Sometimes she wished Phoenix was chattier, but he always seemed to have the world on his shoulders. This was why it was so amazing every time she managed to make him laugh or answer her silly questions.

The man was clearly doing something right, as the next morning the headline across the top country music website read:

BAD BOY PHOENIX BROOKS FOUND THE LOVE HE’S BEEN WAITING FOR

There were photos of Phoenix and Miranda looking cozy as ever.

Two days later, Phoenix was brought to Tennessee to sign his contract. He had been hoping for another album, but they signed him for three.

Their mission was complete, but their contract wasn’t over, which was just fine with Miranda. She was hardly done with Phoenix Brooks; she just hoped he felt the same way.

Chapter Eleven

Phoenix

Phoenix watched as Miranda was crouched down on her knees in the Nashville studio, staring at the songs he’d played out in order on the coffee table in front of them.

He smirked with amusement, watching her thumb through his lyrics like a little manager. He was becoming more endeared to the girl as each day went by—and it terrified him.

He hadn’t felt a spark for anybody since Rachel, yet somehow Miranda had managed to find her way into his circle of trust.

He found himself comparing the two women constantly. He didn’t want to take anything away from his ex. She was going to be the mother of his child. She was the one who had been there with him through nearly all of the significant moments in his life, except for this one.

Phoenix always believed that Rachel was his soulmate, yet he knew there was a part of Miranda that understood him better than Rachel ever could. She understood his music and the passion he felt toward creation. She could sit for hours while he played guitar, encouraging him and marveling at his talent.

This was hardly an ego stroke. Phoenix could equally spend hours exchanging silly questions with Miranda, peppering her about her dreams and goals, and listening to her tell stories about her life.

And she loved the ranch.

Rachel had loved the ranch, but Phoenix was never open to looking at it as anything but a business until Miranda came into his life.

Miranda wanted to ride horses and go through all of the experiences. Since moving into his Utah home, he and Miranda had gone snowboarding, tubing, been horseback riding several times, skated, gone fly fishing in the snow, did a guided ranger tour, and took a cooking class.

The experiences made her smile and filled Phoenix with a sense of gratitude for the light she brought into his world.

He’d been selfish. He could see that now. It was why he lost Rachel and why Hunter came down so hard on him. It was why both of them were willing to believe he’d cheated on Rachel. Because he’d become something of a narcissist.

Miranda made him want to be better. For the first time, possibly ever, Phoenix could feel himself growing.

He was looking for ways to think outside of himself. He wanted to use his music as a platform for bettering the world, already taking on six charity shows to promote the album with all proceeds from the ticket sales going to various causes like cancer research and fighting poverty in the city.

Phoenix’s label flew him and Miranda out to Nashville to do some record with one of their favorite producers, E.I. Todd.

They’d been in the city for weeks writing and recording in the evenings.

During the day, Phoenix would take Miranda to some of his favorite sights like the replica of the Greek Parthenon, the Country Music Hall of Fame, and Centennial Park. If it were too cold, they would stay inside and watch a movie or work on the plans for the kids’ camp back at the ranch.

On nights when he wasn’t working, the two would go to Broadway or the Grand Ole Opry. Phoenix loved to watch Miranda’s reactions. They were childlike and completely authentic. When she was surprised, her face showed it. When she was emotional, her eyes brimmed with tears and she clapped for the acts until her face went red.

But his favorite thing to do with Miranda was to have her in the studio, like tonight.

His producer, manager, and the record executives were crazy about Miranda. She was everything they had been looking for.

Come to think of it, she was everything he had been looking for, too: Smart, beautiful, confident, adventurous.

That evening, it was just Adam, Phoenix, and Miranda in the studio after their recording session had wrapped, looking over the songs.

Adam sat back in the studio chair and crossed his legs at his ankles. “Is that the order you want to put your songs in?” he asked, nodding toward the meticulously ordered pages of songs on the floor.

“Not yet,” Phoenix said. “This is just a rough draft.”

“Yeah, yeah, looks good, man,” Adam nodded. “This album is killer so far.”

Miranda shifted three songs around on a whim. She didn’t look up at Phoenix as she said, “I think ‘Annabella’ should be track two.”

“Why’s that?”

“Doesn’t that sort of make sense?” she asked curiously, meeting his eyes. “I mean, didn’t you write the record as a story?”

His brows drew together, and he leaned down to look at the new way she had ordered his songs. “How do you mean?”

She swept her hand above the papers and explained, “I think when you look at everything, it tells this consecutive story. You start with ‘What it takes to be next to you’, which is the guy getting the girl. Then you have ‘Annabella’, which lets you know that the girl he got isn’t the typical happily ever after. She’s troubled, she’s not always so lovable, but he’s committed. Then you have ‘Go Easy on Me’ and ‘Cataclysm’, which are both about this relationship that is lightning. It’s hot and passionate, but it’s fiery and destructive.”

“’Cataclysm’ was about a tornado,” he interjected.

“A tornado of a relationship,” Miranda said.

Phoenix shook his head. “Actually, it was just a song about a tornado.”

“Whatever,” she giggled. “It still fits. Then we have ‘Alongside Rivers’, which is the guy really thinking about his life and realizing that he isn’t happy anymore.”

Adam couldn’t hide the smile on his face. He looked up at Phoenix, thumbing in Miranda’s direction as he declared, “She’s good, man.”

“Then you have these,” she continued, gesturing toward a couple of papers she moved to the side. “Sort of filler, radio hits about growing up and all that. Then you end everything with ‘I’m Wide Awake’ and ‘Like Hallelujah’, which are these lightbulb moments. Maybe there’s more to life, and love, than being on the edge of your seat all of the time. Maybe there’s pleasure in simplicity, starting over, and even being alone.”

Phoenix blinked in surprise. He was stunned to see the journey of his life spread out in front of him.

He knew he was working through his breakup, but he hadn’t expected to see everything put in chronological order the way it was.

“The only one that that doesn’t seem to fit anywhere in the narrative is ‘Lifted,’” she said, and he immediately felt defensive. “It’s all about—”

He snapped, “I know what it’s about, and it belongs here,” before setting the song lyrics before “Alongside Rivers.”

“I don’t know; it doesn’t seem to fit the tone,” Miranda said, tapping her finger against her lips and looking to Adam for backup.

“If we’re going through a story narrative, then that’s where it goes,” Phoenix said stubbornly.

“I think she’s right, bro. Maybe we should save it for the next record,” Adam said to Phoenix’s surprise.

“I don’t want it on the next album,” he responded petulantly. “I want it on this album.”

Adam shrugged and stood to grab his jacket. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

“It stays, Adam,” he said evenly.

“Alright, alright! It stays!” Adam laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “Hey, I’m heading out for the night. Do you guys want to grab a nightcap? Late dinner?”

“No. Thanks,” Phoenix said.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, bud.”

Phoenix waved but didn’t look at Adam as he said, “Goodnight.”

When Adam left, the whole dynamic of the room changed. He could see Miranda holding her jaw tight as she stared at the coffee table.

“What?” he said with irritation. “You think he’s right?”

“I think if you feel like that song completes the album, then it should stay,” she said, her words clipped.

“But you don’t think it belongs there?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I already said what I had to say. Do you want me to say it again?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I think it feels like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. But this isn’t my life. I didn’t go through any of this. You did. So, if you say the rest of the album wouldn’t have happened without it, then it should stay.”

Phoenix thinned his lips.

“Let’s just change the subject since you clearly don’t like talking about this song,” she said simply.

“I wrote it,” he enunciated.

She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes and snapped back, “I know, but getting it off your chest is a lot different than dissecting it line by line or talking about what it means to you.”

He squinted. “And?”

“And when the album comes out, people are going to ask what it’s about, and if you’re not ready to talk about it, then maybe it shouldn’t be on the record,” she said. “You shouldn’t open that part of yourself to the world until you’re ready to talk about it or it might hurt you.”

“Hurt my career?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “No, your feelings.”

“It’s going on the record.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?” she said with annoyance.

“It’s my song,” he said firmly. “I don’t even know why you’re going on about it.”

She shrugged. “Why won’t you just tell me what the song is about?”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

“Seriously?” She scoffed. “Why are you being such a jerk right now?”

“Because I let you come into the studio as a silent observer, not as a member of my management team.”

Miranda’s eyes went wide. She gestured toward the door and exclaimed, “But Adam agrees with me!”

“The song stays on the album,” he said evenly.

“Fine!” she shouted. “I don’t even know why you’re getting so freaked out about this or why you won’t just tell me why you need this song so badly. What’s it about? I mean, it’s not hard to guess. It’s about Rachel. They’re all about Rachel.”

Phoenix flinched as she spat the words out, and he could hear the deep jealousy in her tone.

“Listen to me,” he said carefully, and his tone continued to rise the longer he spoke, “It has to be on the record because I need this record to be over. I need this to be done, and I can’t have this weighing on me anymore. I can’t keep reliving this!”

Miranda’s eyes went wide as saucers. She looked surprised at his outburst. “Okay,” she said calmly. “But you do know that by playing it live, you’ll have to relive it, right?”

“We won’t play it live,” he said with venom.

“Fine,” she said, and that was the end of it.

The air was thick with awkward tension and remained that way until the pair got back to his penthouse in Nashville.

At first, Phoenix thought he was punishing Miranda with his silence, but as the entered the house and she went right to her bedroom door and closed it behind her, he realized it was the other way around.

Miranda was the one who wasn’t speaking to him.

While the two of them weren’t in a real relationship, this felt authentically like the way he used to feel when Rachel came down on him or stormed away when they were trying to talk.

He sat on the gray, tufted couch in his living room and poured himself a glass of whiskey to relax. He’d been good about not using alcohol as a release these past three months, but tonight he just needed a drink. He needed to unwind.

Phoenix paced the room with the glass in the palm of his hand before he picked up his guitar and began playing some of his new songs. He didn’t sing along to the music, as it felt uncomfortable to do so while Miranda was upset.

He waited in the common area for over an hour, expecting Miranda to come out, but she didn’t.

By eleven that night, he was done waiting. He didn’t know how to approach her, and clearly, she didn’t want to be disturbed. Besides, he didn’t feel he was in the wrong to begin with—so why should he go and make nice with her?

Miranda didn’t have a clue about him or his life or what those songs meant, and she had no right to make any decisions about them. Phoenix lived through the trauma that birthed those songs, not her.

He couldn’t believe he’d been considering starting something up with her.

This anger, while boiling the moment they came through the front door, subsided as soon as Miranda came into his room later that night. It was after one in the morning when she walked in through his bedroom door. She was holding her phone and a pair of earbuds. Seeing that he was awake, she dropped the items on the bed, and he could see at the screen. She was listening to “Lifted.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

“It’s about your...” she trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s about the miscarriage.”

Phoenix looked up at her, his expression dark as she continued, “That’s why it has to go in. Because this record isn’t a story. Not in the linear way. It’s an apology.”

The room stayed quiet, and it was the kind of silence that played with the tension like a puppeteer.

“Has she heard it?” Miranda asked with a sad, hopeful tone.

“Rachel?”

She raised a brow. “Who else?”

Phoenix sat on the edge of the bed and offered her nothing more than a one-shouldered shrug. “Bits and pieces from older songs, but none of the new ones.”

“Why don’t you send it to her? It’s obvious you want to please her with this record. You want to impress her, or something, though I’m not exactly sure why,” she scoffed.

Phoenix tensed and repeated, “You’re not exactly sure why?” in a way that was slow and deliberately displeased.

“She left you for your brother. Why would you even want her back?”

“She didn’t leave,” he said firmly. “I lost her.”

Miranda itched above her eyebrow and then ran her hand through her hair, pulling it to one side and seeming to give it volume as she did so. “I’m having trouble deciphering the difference here.”

“There were certain steps taken that led us to where we are now,” he said. “I was distant. I was consumed. Maybe I drove her away, or maybe we were doomed as soon as we lost that baby. But Rachel,” he paused. “She...is me. I don’t know how else to describe it. She’s a part of me. Without her, I am just this half without its other half, and I don’t understand how I’m supposed to keep moving forward.”

Miranda bit her lip, and her eyes darted toward her feet, considering something.

“Phoenix?” she finally said, raising her face to him. “Do you think that you’re going to get her back? With the record, I mean?”

And just like that, Miranda figured him out.

“This record is everything I couldn’t say to her,” he said, counting on his fingers as he continued, “I’m sorry. I messed up. I’m angry.”

Miranda nodded, and suddenly there seemed to be an impassable wall between them, tearing down everything they had built together thus far. “And you think it will bring you back together?” she asked, her words slow and full of realizations.

“I think it will open her eyes,” he said.

“Isn’t she engaged?

“She was engaged to me,” he snapped. “And look how well that turned out.”

“Right.” The blonde gave a slow nod and a delicate, almost imperceptible smile as she said, “Then I hope you get the outcome you’re hoping for.”

That had always been his plan, anyway. Let Rachel hear right from his heart all of the mistakes he made—how sorry he was.

During his conception of the record, he had hoped that she would change her mind about Hunter and come home, but now he didn’t know what he wanted. He was torn between a past love and a possible future with someone new.

Chapter Twelve

Miranda

Arguing with someone you had a huge crush on was the worst feeling in the world.

To make it worse, Miranda and Phoenix didn’t even argue. They had some strange, silent standoff.

Miranda had been so sure she was right about the story Phoenix’s album was telling, and his refusal to take anyone else’s opinion into account infuriated her. Then once she realized what the song was about, Miranda felt awful.

She should have just shut up and let it go. Phoenix could be stubborn when it came to his music. That was his right—he created it. Then she realized what was really bothering her.

It was Rachel.

Miranda knew Phoenix was grieving over the loss of his child. She couldn’t imagine what that pain felt like. She also knew Phoenix was still heartbroken over Rachel, but she hadn’t considered that he wasn’t just sad over the breakup. He actively wanted Rachel back.

His confirmation that his record was a love-letter or apology to his ex-fiancée made Miranda sick to her stomach.

She’d smiled and apologized. She told him she hoped he got exactly what he was looking for out of the record. Since then, the two had acted like nothing ever happened between them.

Phoenix warned her not to get her heart involved. They talked about it—it was their agreement! He told her that the time they spent together mixed with the kissing and the exciting lifestyle, which seemed to revolve around his music and their pretend love, would be confusing for her, but she hadn’t expected everything to feel so real.

As much as she tried to convince herself that it was just a silly crush and that it would go away with time or that she and Phoenix wouldn’t make a good couple in real life, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d found the person she was meant to be with.

Just as she was beginning to doubt herself, something started to shift between them. It was slight at first. The change was practically invisible to the untrained eye, but Miranda could feel a distinct need coming from Phoenix’s direction.

He seemed to want to be around her more than usual. He was spending more time with her at the ranch, spending more time holding her hand when no one was around and talking to her endlessly about life and music and shows and tones, and she couldn’t get enough.

The two had been living at the ranch together for two months and then spent another two months between Utah and Nashville for the writing and recording of Phoenix’s record.

Now the album, Terrible Beautiful Words, was out and sales were skyrocketing.

After spending the day together at Brookside Ranch, Phoenix and Miranda drove two hours north to Salt Lake City for a charity concert that was meant to be the official kickoff launch for the album.

The concert was taking place at a sports stadium that held nearly four-thousand seats, and rumor had it, the venue sold out within two hours of Phoenix’s tickets going live.

If he was nervous, Miranda would never know. Phoenix acted completely normal throughout the day at the ranch and during their drive to Salt Lake.

When they arrived at the stadium, one of Phoenix’s public relations agents suggested he talk to some of the reporters who were waiting outside to catch a glimpse of him.

He gave a few cordial interviews. They were friendly and short, and the two posed for pictures before going in the backdoor of the auditorium.

Once inside, the pair were escorted to the underground section of the arena where more reporters were lining the cement hallway.

Phoenix took Miranda’s hand into his and hurried her along the hall, surrounded by security. She saw flashes of camera lights and heard various reporters yelling out their questions.

“Miranda! Miranda!” one called out to her, stretching a microphone in her face. “When’s the wedding?”

“What’s it like to be engaged to a country superstar?” a woman asked, trying desperately to cut through everyone else’s questions.

“Miranda!” a man shouted. “How is Phoenix doing with his drinking?”

Miranda let out an audible scoff at the question and reacted visibly. She frowned with irritation and offered the reported a scolding look.

“Just don’t make eye contact,” Phoenix whispered to her with a perfect smile. “Once they see they don’t bug you, they’ll leave you alone.”

The two of them kept walking until they reached a cordoned-off area. From this point on, there were no paparazzi allowed. Phoenix let her go first, slipping his hand down the small of her back before following after her. The reporters pushed their way up to the security line and continued pelting their questions at him, some with cameras, others with cellphones.

She thought they were in the clear, but as a male reporter called, “Phoenix, tell us about your girl!” Phoenix stopped and turned around.

He turned to the crowd and put on his best front man charm. “She’s amazing,” he said, nodding toward Miranda.

“She’s certainly beautiful,” the reporter said.

“No arguments here,” Phoenix said, then tapped the side of his temple and said, “And she’s brilliant, so I’m lucky.”

“Are you guys thinking about a long engagement?”

Phoenix shrugged. “We’ll know when the time is right.”

“Your fans are so happy you’ve taken the time to recover over the last year,” the man said. “How has your break from the industry helped? We know you were writing an album last year and then suddenly announced that you would be taking a hiatus, put your record off for a year.”

Miranda was incensed. The personal questions these people were willing to impose upon a complete stranger infuriated her. Surely this man would never ask such questions to his own family member or colleague. It was like Phoenix wasn’t even a human to them, just someone to prod for clicks and ratings.

Unlike Miranda, Phoenix didn’t miss a beat. “It was a hard year, but fans stood by me, and I think they’re going to see that this record was worth waiting for,” he said with what sounded like genuine gratitude.

“You bet they will!” the reporter replied emphatically. “And what about Rachel? What does she think of the record?”

Phoenix let out an annoyed and completely endearing laugh. It was the kind of breathy, offended laugh that said, “I’m done.”

“I guess you’d have to ask Rachel,” Phoenix said.

He walked back to Miranda and put an arm around her just in time to hear the same reporter call out, “Do you guys keep in contact? What about your brother? What effect has this had on your family?”

Security held them back, and a separate set of guards guided Miranda and Phoenix far down the corridor into his private dressing room.

The show was a hit. Miranda watched from the side of the stage as Phoenix do what he did best: entertain.

It was so different from seeing him in the studio. During recording sessions, Phoenix was calm and cool. He was quiet and observant, even when he was belting out impossible vocals.

But on the stage, he came alive.

He suddenly had more energy than she’d ever seen in him before. He moved to his music, ran across the stage, laughed, interacted with his fans as much as possible, and at the end of the set, he took his cowboy hat off and threw it to one of the kids in the audience.

Miranda clapped, cheered, sang along, and felt overwhelmingly emotional during the set. She was so proud of him and so thankful to be a part of his journey, even if it was just for now.

Phoenix came backstage, drank down an entire water bottle, wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a towel, and got ready for the encore.

As the rest of the band began running back out on stage, Phoenix walked up to Miranda and said, “Come with me.”

“What?” she said in surprise. “No!”

“Please,” he smiled. “I want everyone to meet you, officially.”

Miranda inhaled a nervous breath and put her free hand over her mouth, nervous and excited and embarrassed as she followed him out onto the massive stage.

The crowd cheered wildly as he spoke into the microphone. “Before we play our last song for the night,” he said in his Texas twang, “I just wanted to let you guys meet someone very special to me.”

Phoenix held Miranda’s arm up and spun her around before wrapping an arm around her waist.

“There are some people in life who change it in a way you didn’t expect. I haven’t known this girl for that long, but she had changed everything for me. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this past year without her support, and I sure as heck wouldn’t have been able to put this record out.”

With that sentiment, the crowd went wild with cheers and applause.

“So I just wanted to say a little thank you to my girl here, Miranda Newton,” he said.

When he finished, he met her eyes and pulled the microphone away from them. “Thank you,” he said, leaning in close to her ear. “I mean it.”

Miranda smiled but couldn’t bring herself to say a thing. She was lost for words. The entire moment was surreal. There was the road of the crowd, the drummers and violinists on stage, the light show, and of course, being this close to Phoenix. She felt like now, and only, truly now, had she finally saw him in his entirety. She knew the shy, sweet Phoenix and she knew the performer—the handsome front man who knew how to entertain a crowd.

The band behind them began playing the intro to their closing song, but Phoenix wasn’t interested in singing, yet.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and pulled her into an unexpected kiss.

She felt breathless as his lips danced and moved against her like silk. The real surprise came when, unexpectedly, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. It was just a taste—a brief introduction of a real kiss.

Miranda felt her face explode with a blush. He had never done that before.

The only kisses they had shared thus far had been what her high-school drama teacher would have dubbed ‘stage kisses.’ No open mouths and no tongue.

But this was no stage kiss. This was real passion.

When the kiss broke, the crowd was so loud that Miranda had to shrink away backstage and put her earplugs back in.

He played a beautiful set. Almost as beautiful as his kiss.

When he came off stage, his eyes were fixed on hers. He set both hands on the sides of her face and pulled her back into a kiss, which she readily reciprocated.

His curiosity started as small flicks of his tongue against hers and escalated as he pulled her waist close to his.

As Miranda pulled away, she had expected to see management, the band, or some kind of reporter nearby watching, but it was just the two of them.

“What was that for?” she asked coyly.

With a wink in his tone, Phoenix said, “Just saying thanks.”

Two days later, they were back at the ranch, and neither of them had spoken of the kiss from the night before.

“Look at this,” Phoenix said excitedly, lifting an e-mail on his phone up to Miranda’s view.

“We already have forty-five shows throughout the next four months to promote the record.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” she cheered.

Phoenix was laying across his living-room couch, and Miranda was standing behind him, still gazing down at the phone.

“Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, Denver, Chicago, Toronto,” he said, twirling his finger in the air with each new city name. “Philadelphia, Nashville. This list is crazy! And guess what?”

“What?”

“They’re already saying we might be doing a world tour. Italy, Germany, the Netherlands, France, England, Japan,” he said.

Miranda’s eyes went wide. She tried to gum up an enthusiastic response, but all she could manage was, “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” he laughed, sitting up to get a better look at her.

“No, I am! I’m so happy for you, and I’m so glad that they believe in this record. It’s just, uh, how long does a world tour take?” she laughed.

Phoenix ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it back and off his face. He looked as if no one had ever asked him that question before.

“I think they’re hoping for a year, but it depends. There will be different legs of the tour with breaks in-between.” Then he narrowed his blue eyes and teased, “Why? Are you going to miss me?”

Her face flushed red, and she shrugged. “I don’t know,” she hummed. “Maybe.”

“Well, thankfully, you won’t have to worry about any of that.”

“Why’s that?” She clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t have to worry about it because she’d be out of his life by then?

“Because you’ll be right next to me.”

“What if it takes more than a year?” she asked, blinking in surprise. “What if our contract is up by then?”

He smirked, and something was up. His expression looked too silly and too mischievous like he’d just found her out.

“Okay, Miranda. Let’s talk,” he said.”

“No, let’s not,” she said simply, walking away from the couch.

“No,” he repeated, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto his lap. “What’s up?”

“Okay,” she said with something between a giggle and a sigh. “I guess I’m just worried about how everything is supposed to go with us at the end of our agreement. I mean, we made this contract for you to get your album out and make nice with your record company, and we’ve done that. I was supposed to pay off the government, and you are very graciously helping me do that. But then what? Do we have a super public breakup? Is the media going to attack me?”

He narrowed his brows. “No,” he said with a breath. “We’re not going to stage-manage a breakup. We just won’t be seen together out in public anymore, and people will figure it out. Then we’ll go to a couple of events together, tell people we’re still friends,” he said, pantomiming dusting his hands off. “Done and done.”

“And I slink away into obscurity?”

Phoenix shrugged. “If that’s what you want, sure.”

“Right,” she said slowly.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, drawing out her words flirtatiously.

“But that isn’t what I want,” Phoenix said, catching her by surprise.

She smiled at him, taken aback by his comment. “And what is it that you want, Mr. Brooks?”

He wrapped his arms around her and shrugged. “I’d like to keep you around for a while.”

She swallowed nervously and asked, “In what capacity?”

“In an,” he said, drawing the words out before concluding, “official one.”

“And what does that mean?” she asked.

“Exactly what I said. I’d like to keep this going, this thing between you and me.” He paused. “The thing we shared backstage the other night.”

Her heart sped up. “Like, the contract?”

“No,” Phoenix shook his head and neared her face. He touched his nose against hers and maintained eye contact as he said, “Like, you and me. For real.” And then he kissed her again.

“I think I have some kind of crazy crush on you, Miranda,” he said when he pulled away. “And I meant what I said out there. You’ve changed me. I don’t know who I would be if I didn’t have you in my life right now, and as long as you feel the same way, I’d like you to be my official girlfriend.”

“Is that much different than being your fake fiancée?” she giggled.

“Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. “What do you say?”

“I say yes,” she gushed. “Yes!”

Chapter Thirteen

Phoenix

The record was out, and the reviews were in—Terrible Beautiful Words was a smash hit. You couldn’t turn to a country station without hearing his single, “I’m Wide Awake” blaring through the speakers. Fans loved it, critics loved it, and most importantly, Miranda loved it, and that’s what mattered most to Phoenix.

He’d been struggling with his feelings for her for weeks. She brought out a new side to his personality that he wanted to embrace. She made him feel good about himself, and beyond that, she was an amazing person. She was fun and beautiful and brilliant, and he couldn’t get enough.

Phoenix was playing a show in Houston, and the whole time he was on stage, he couldn’t stop thinking about Miranda. It felt so good to play and be in front of his fans again, but it was nothing compared to the high he felt being around that girl.

They’d spent the last two days in Texas before the show, coming early so that Miranda could meet his mother.

When his mother had first heard about his engagement to Miranda, she called him with a fury in her voice he hadn’t heard since he was a teenager. She’d read about it in a music magazine and was incensed that he hadn’t told her himself.

“Who is this girl?” she demanded to know. “What’s it been, a week of seeing her, and now you’re asking her to marry you? Oh no. I refuse to have my son be the laughing stock of the industry. You are not having a shotgun wedding.”

“Shotgun wedding?” he chuckled. “Mom, that’s what they call it if the girl is pregnant. We’re not having a shotgun wedding—we’re not having a wedding at all.”

He explained the situation to her, and to say she wasn’t impressed with his PR scam would be the understatement of the year.

While she was relieved that he wasn’t really getting married, she was horrified that any self-respecting woman would agree to such terms. Then she lectured him about not letting Miranda use him and how she hoped he didn’t do “anything stupid” to try and improve his image.

Shannon was a very particular woman, especially when it came to Phoenix. She was protective and loyal, especially after what happened with Rachel.

Now that he and Miranda were the real deal, he wanted his mother to get used to the idea of having her in their lives.

Shannon gave Miranda the third-degree when they first arrived at the Brooks family home. She asked why Miranda why she wanted to be at the Utah ranch, what she liked about Phoenix, and why she thought having a fake-engagement seemed like a good idea. It was the most awkward first meeting he had ever experienced. However, Shannon’s tune changed when she found out that Miranda was an orphan. Something about the information tugged at her mother’s intuition, and by the end of the visit, she was pulling Miranda into a big bear hug, exchanging phone numbers, and insisting that she not be a stranger.

The next day, Shannon had raved about Miranda on the phone, saying what a sweet, country girl he’d ended up with.

Having his mother’s stamp of approval, however hesitant it was, was important to Phoenix. He wanted Miranda to be a real part of his life, and introducing her to his parents was the first step.

Phoenix was currently in the final chorus of his last song on the Texas stage. As much as he relished singing his new songs and watching the fans mouthing along to the words, he was equally as excited to get backstage and scoop her up in his arms.

“Thank you all for a great show tonight; you’ve been amazing!” he called into the microphone when his set was over.

The audience let out a roaring cheer as he stepped off-stage. Miranda was waiting for him in the wings, clapping and giving him the biggest, cutest grin he’d ever seen.

“You are so...” she began but trailed off as she leaned in and kissed him.

“Handsome?” he said with a wink. “Talented?”

“Both,” she smiled.

Miranda wasn’t the only one who thought so. She wasn’t the only one who had sneaked backstage, either. In an instant, Phoenix was surrounded by a barrage of teenage girls who were all raving about the show and begging for autographs.

“Phoenix, you were amazing!” a brunette girl gushed, extending a vinyl version of his album toward him to sign. “I have been listening to you since I was thirteen years old!”

Phoenix gave a breathy chuckle, signing the album as he asked, “Wow. How old are you now?”

“Eighteen,” the girl said suggestively.

“You’re a fan for life,” he said, handing the record back to her. “Thanks for the support, I really appreciate it!”

“Where are you staying tonight?” another girl asked.

“Yeah,” the brunette chimed in. “And where are the good clubs in town? Anywhere near your hotel?”

“If I send you a DM, will you hit me up?” another girl asked, holding her cellphone up and recording the entire interaction.

“Sorry, guys. I’m out with my girl tonight,” he said and put an arm around Miranda’s shoulders. “But thanks so much for the support. I had a lot of fun tonight. Wouldn’t have been the same without you!”

Phoenix only got the opportunity to sign a couple of autographs before his security team came and escorted the trespassing fans out from backstage.

“Do you think that’s the girl from New York?” one of the fans asked in a sarcastic scoff as she was taken out of the restricted area.

The girls were gone before Phoenix could hear what their response was, but the damage was done. Miranda stiffened with irritation and remained mostly silent until they got into the car later that night.

Once they were in the car, they talked about the show most of the way back to their hotel suite. He was glad to hear she enjoyed herself, but as they reached the hotel valet, she commented, “You have a lot of girls at your shows.”

“Girls like country music,” he said with a shrug.

“So do guys,” she said. She tried to keep her tone light and playful, but he could already feel where the conversation was headed.

“Yeah, but the girls are more aggressive about getting backstage,” he said.

“And they’re so young,” she said in a high pitch. “You must get a lot of offers.”

He narrowed his brows and gave her a careful look as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said, still trying to let her jealousy roll off of her shoulders. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

“You’re not jealous, are you?

“No,” she lied. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. I don’t want anyone to think I’m your idiot girlfriend, you know? Just sort of standing there all doe-eyed and stupid while you go and flirt with girls.”

“I don’t flirt with girls. I’m not rude to them. There’s a difference,” he said. “Besides, I’m there with you.”

“I know, it’s just a new thing we’re trying out here and I don’t want anything to screw it up,” she said simply.

He thought, hoped, and prayed the conversation would end there, but at they made it into their spacious hotel room, he could tell Miranda wasn’t ready to let it go. She followed him around the neon-colored room like a nervous puppy and said, “Full disclosure? When I was thirteen years old, I stole makeup from the drug store. My foster parents wouldn’t get me makeup. They said I was too young to be wearing that stuff.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“Right, and this other time, when I was sixteen, I dated two guys at the same time and lied about it. We were all in the same group home, and they both found out, and they had this big fight, and they both dumped me. I felt like the biggest jerk ever and vowed never to take advantage of anybody like that ever again. And I haven’t.”

“What about your thieving ways?” he teased. “Have you given up your life of crime, as well?”

Miranda wore a proud smile. “Clean and sober for thirteen years now.”

“Good for you,” he laughed. “I’m proud of you.”

Phoenix dropped his jacket on the couch and walked across the common area into the master bedroom of the hotel. It was a white room with a neon yellow accent wall behind the king-sized bed. Not exactly his idea of tranquil colors, but it was certainly unique.

Miranda followed right behind him. “So?” she said.

She seemed like she wanted something from him, but he couldn’t decipher what. “So?” he repeated with a smile.

“So, I told you my secrets. Now’s the part where you tell me yours.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Sounds ominous.”

“Look,” she said with a sigh. “I’m not someone who gushes over celebrities. I don’t look them up online to see what they wear or who they are dating. I don’t even stalk my ex-boyfriend’s social media. I let people live how they want. I base my opinions on them over how they treat me.”

“And I’ve treated you very well, haven’t I?” he asked.

Miranda nodded. “Yes, you have.”

“But?”

“But,” she began nervously. “It’s hard to know what to say when reporters are asking me if I’m nervous about your past or if we were fooling around while you were with Rachel or like those girls tonight, asking if I’m the girl from New York.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry people have been saying things like that to you. It comes with the territory, I guess, but I’m sorry you have to deal with rude people.”

“Right...” she hesitated. “But, I guess my question is, who is the girl from New York?”

Phoenix’s stomach dropped. Despite rumors about an affair being spread all over the tabloids last year, there had been very few people he had told about the girl in New York. It was mainly Adam, and that was it. He didn’t even tell his mother the real story about what happened.

“Does it matter?” he asked with mild irritation. “She’s nobody now.”

Miranda’s eyes went wide with curiosity, as though she had just realized the girl from New York was not a mere myth or figment of the media’s imagination.

“Um,” she said, drawing the word out, “yeah, I think it kind of matters.”

Phoenix sat on the side of the bed with his feet planted firmly on the carpet. He steepled his hands together and leaned forward, deciding whether or not he should tell Miranda the story. The whole event summarized not only the worst moment of his life, but his worst behavior, as well. He didn’t want Miranda to know that side of him, but he didn’t want to keep anything from her, either. He wanted things to be different in this relationship.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “But what you need to know before I tell this story is that what I and Rachel had was very passionate.”

“So I’ve learned from your songs,” she said tersely.

“I don’t just mean...” he began, but then thought better of his words. “We loved hard, and we fought just as hard. There was never a middle ground with Rach. We were never just happy.”

“Sounds healthy,” she said.

“Then she got pregnant, and everything changed. We were this unit, and everything about us made sense. She was four months along. The doctor gave us the go-ahead that she was safe, everything looked good. Then she lost the baby. I was doing a couple shows in New York, and as soon as she told me, I was...”

Phoenix had to stop. His whole body erupted with goosebumps as he remembered that night. He could perfectly recall the stale, dry air in the back of the venue he was playing that night. He remembered walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind him to get some privacy on his phone. He remembered the strange timber in Rachel’s voice. He’d never heard her sound like that before.

“Shattered,” he finished. “I sent her a ticket, told her to come and be with me in the city.”

“Why didn’t you just cancel the show?” Miranda asked.

“That’s what I should have done. I think I thought it would be good for me to do the shows and keep up my routine—keep my mind busy. As long as I was still doing the shows, then nothing was real. Nobody knew we lost the baby, so I could keep pretending it wasn’t real.” He shook his head. “The truth was, I was in shock, you know? I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have just gone home.”

“I can’t imagine,” she sympathized. “So, you invited her to New York. Then what happened?”

“I didn’t want her to be alone. I wanted her to be with me. She didn’t come,” he recalled, “She said she wanted to stay home and she’d see me in a couple of days.”

Phoenix remembered walking into their house in Utah when he got back from the city and Rachel was curled up on the couch. She was wearing black pants and one of Hunter’s band tees. The fact that she kept his brother’s clothes in her dresser and wore them regularly always irritated him, but he knew they were close and that living eight hours away from him must have been painful for her, so he never said a word about the clothes, the texts, or their overwhelming connection.

It was the first time he’d seen Rachel since she lost the baby and he was overcome with a flood of grief. He’d held himself together on the road. He compartmentalized his pain so he could get his job done, but the minute he looked at her, he fell apart. He remembered pulling her into his arms and crying into her chest. He thought about laying in her lap and the way it felt when she stroked his hair.

He never needed her more than he had ever needed her before in those days. He didn’t talk about the miscarriage after that first night. The loss was too great. He wanted to make things better for her, not pull her down into his misery.

Phoenix mourned deeply, feeling the weight of her empty belly electrify every avenue of his life. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t write.

His only solace was that he felt more connected to her than ever once he came home.

He felt like they had spent half of their relationship fighting. But once she got pregnant, everything changed. They became a family, and he didn’t want to lose that.

“We’ll try again,” he told Rachel, but she looked at him with such malice, it was as though he’d somehow caused the miscarriage himself.

“It’s not a band-aid,” she snapped.

He didn’t know what to say to her. He felt a wave of confusion wash over his features, and there was a tingle in the tips of his fingers, a warning sign of the devastation to come.

“Did you want this?” she asked him.

He relayed the homecoming to Miranda. She had pulled a chair up across from the edge of the bed. She was leaning forward, hanging on his every word. “What did you say?” she asked.

“I said I did, and that I wanted to be a family with her. I said I wanted to have a baby and settle down, and she went off.”

She said they weren’t partners, that he didn’t care about her, and that he would never settle down. Rachel made it perfectly clear that she believed all he cared about was his music.

And he did care about his music. His music and Rachel were his whole world, and that used to be the thing she loved about him.

“Then she told me that she did go to New York and I guess when she got to our place, there was...” he trailed off.

“A girl there?” Miranda finished, and he nodded.

“A naked girl in the house,” he said with a sigh. “Specifically, in our bed.”

Miranda looked horrified. Her expression went grim as she said, “You didn’t...?”

“No, I didn’t.”

The blonde swallowed hair, and her brows drew together in a deep frown. “Phoenix,” she began in a lecture, but he put his hand up.

“Rachel misconstrued everything and then she told me—”

“Wait,” Miranda interrupted. “How can she misconstrue that? Who was this girl? Why was she naked in your house?”

Phoenix clenched his teeth together nervously. He looked down at his feet as he reluctantly explained, “The night she told me about...what happened. Well, after the show that night, this girl comes up to me, and she’s making her intentions very clear, and I guess I was feeling sorry for myself. I was mad at Rach for not coming to the city, mad about the miscarriage, mad at myself for not knowing what to do or say to her, so yeah. I’ll admit it. I gave her the address; told her I’d meet her there later.”

Sadness clouded Miranda’s features. She was overcome by disappointment—he could see it. But his story wasn’t over.

“I didn’t go,” he insisted. “The minute I gave her my address, I knew I wasn’t going to go; I didn’t even give her a key or anything. I wanted to avoid the whole thing altogether and got a room at the St. Regis. I have receipts, pictures, and I was with Adam the whole night; he can back everything up. It wasn’t until the next day I found out that girl broke into my house and waited for me.”

“You have no reason to lie to me about this, Phoenix. If you were with this girl, then—”

“I wasn’t, I promise you,” he said firmly. It was the truth. “It was a stupid, selfish decision, and I was an idiot for slipping, but I didn’t go through with it. I will spend the rest of my life regretting that decision.”

“And what about the texts?” Miranda said.

Her statement took him by surprise. She insisted that she’d never looked him up online, but she knew a lot of insider gossip for someone who was supposedly not interested in his past. Or maybe it was Birdie who had brought the texts to her attention.

“Texts are texts,” he said with a sad laugh. “People leak my number online, I get texts from girls, I get a new number and someone else’s phone gets hacked, all of their numbers get leaked, it happens again.”

Miranda cocked her head to the sign. “Naked pictures, though?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gotten naked pictures, offers, and addresses and times to meet up with people to hook up. But it didn’t mean anything to me. You just delete them.”

“You never met up with any of them?”

“I never cheated on Rachel,” he said. “I’ve never cheated on any girlfriend and have never so much as kissed another girl while I was in a relationship.”

Miranda pressed her lips together in a way that indicated she was thinking. She watched him carefully, probably deciding whether or not to believe him. She could doubt him all she wanted, but he was telling the truth. As much as Rachel had convinced herself otherwise, he was never unfaithful to her.

“So, now you know the whole story,” he said.

“Did you tell Rachel all of this?”

“Eventually, but she doesn’t believe me. It was my stupid decision. I was weak, not wicked, and I never cheated on her. I think she just needed to believe that I did so she could justify walking out.”

Miranda exhaled, and even her breath sounded relieved. “Then I believe you,” she said. “And I’m sorry for everything that happened.”

“I blew up my whole life,” he winced. “One stupid decision.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “But look at you now. You’re pulling yourself up off the ground. You’re dusting yourself off and starting over. It takes a lot of guts to reinvent yourself, and you have all of your fans behind you.”

“The things I’ve done...” he continued.

“Are things in the past,” she smiled, and he couldn’t help but kiss her.

Chapter Fourteen

Miranda

Utah was beautiful in spring. Miranda had always thought so. The mountains were beautiful and green, and the fields were lush with tulips. The days were getting warmer, but the nights were still cool.

Miranda and Phoenix spent the day at the ranch riding the horses. She loved seeing him in his cowboy hat and hipster beard. When it got too cold to stay out, the two of them went back to Phoenix’s mansion and sat in front of the fireplace talking about movies they wanted to see and what they wanted to do in each of the cities they would visit while on tour.

“When did you realize you liked me?” Phoenix asked.

Miranda cocked her head to the side and marveled at how handsome her boyfriend was—and the fact that she could officially call him her boyfriend. She still couldn’t believe it.

“Um, right away?” she answered with a laugh.

“No, you didn’t,” he dismissed.

“Well, maybe not when you were telling me you were docking my paycheck,” she grinned, “But pretty soon after. I just didn’t want to screw anything up between us by telling you about it. What about you?” she asked. “When did you realize you liked me? Or, more importantly, why do you like me?”

Phoenix wrapped his arm around her and rested his chin against her forehead, looking down off at the giant flames that filled the marble fireplace. “I liked that you didn’t know me,” he said with sincerity. “When you’re in the public eye, people think they know everything about you just because they’ve read a few bullet points about your life. But you? You did not know a single thing about me except that I owned Brookside Ranch.”

“Hey!” she protested with a giggle. “I knew you were a musician!”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “Because of Birdie.”

“Fair enough.”

“You bring out something in me that I don’t recognize,” he continued, and his words made her whole body go warm.

“Like what?” she asked.

“You make me considerate,” he said, hooking her interest immediately. “You make me want to be a better human being, and I can honestly say I’ve never felt that way before. You make me talk, which, also, not a common thing for me.”

“Well, I am honored,” she said. “And so, so, so excited to start this wild journey with you.”

“You’re not scared?” he questioned.

“Not even a little bit,” she said, leaning up to meet his lips.

Their mouths moved together in perfect unison. His kisses always left her breathless and wanting more.

“Hey,” he whispered, breaking the kiss. She looked up at him and blinked in surprise. “I want you to know that what I said,” he stammered nervously, “what we talked about the other day, about the album and Rachel.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he insisted. “I want you to know that I don’t feel that way anymore. This record was like therapy for me, but that’s all it is. Therapeutic. I don’t want her back.”

“I sure hope not,” she said and tried not to sound too relieved.

The truth was, his words had been weighing on her mind ever since he asked her to be his girlfriend. She didn’t want to be his second choice or have him pining after Rachel. And apparently, he wasn’t.

“Did you always know you wanted to be famous?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. She didn’t like dwelling on Rachel. As far as she was concerned, she was no longer a person of interest in their relationship. She hoped, anyway.

“Yes,” he said, then frowned and corrected, “No. What do you mean?”

“You probably always wanted me to know your songs, right? That’s like, every musician’s dream to reach somebody with their music and play for a living, but did you want to be famous? As in, people following you around with cameras, getting swanky invites for things, be awarded in front of bazillions of fans, have girls fall all over you.”

“Oh, that,” he said playfully. “No, that part of everything never really appealed to me, I guess. Some things are cool about it, like being recognized as talented and noticed at all means a lot to a kid like me.”

“What do you mean, a kid like you?” she asked.

Phoenix rolled his eyes, seeming suddenly embarrassed. “Cue the sob story about the technical middle child in a family where our parents had so many kids, they didn’t have enough time to pay attention to them all,” he said.

“I thought you said you and your mom were close?”

“She’s been a rock for me,” he nodded. “I can’t take that away from her. We’ve always been close. But not my dad. I love him, and I respect him for taking care of us and teaching us the value of working hard.”

“But you never really got along?” she asked.

Phoenix shrugged. “We get along. We just don’t have anything in common.”

“Ah.”

Phoenix went to continue but seemed to think better of it. He exhaled loudly and scolded himself, “Listen to me complaining about my upbringing to someone who...”

She laughed. “It’s okay, you can say it: ‘Someone who didn’t have parents.’”

“Talk about first world problems,” he self-lectured. “Here I am going on about being too famous and having such a big family.”

She sat up straighter and removed his arm from around her neck so she could get a better look at him. “Hey, it’s totally fine! That was your reality, and you’re allowed to have feelings about it. Besides, there are plenty of things in your life that are hard.”

Phoenix raised and lowered his brows dismissively. She could tell he felt bad about bringing it up.

“What was it like?” he asked. “Growing up in the system?”

Rachel’s heart fluttered at the mention of it. Not out of fondness, but out of nerves. She licked her lips thoughtfully and asked, “Um. Do you know much about it?”

“Just statistics here and there, but I couldn’t tell you if they are stereotypes or not.”

“What kind of statistics?” she asked. There were a lot of misconceptions about how things worked when you were the property of the government and she was always fascinated to hear how people envisioned life in the system.

“I guess the most common one is that most foster parents come in looking for an infant,” he said. “And that foster kids are more likely to suffer from behavioral issues,” he continued, counting on his fingers as he went along. “Foster parents are usually only in it for the money. You know, big stereotypes like that.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong about most of it,” she said, impressed with his knowledge. “A lot of people who come in are looking for a kid anywhere from one to five years old, let’s say. They want someone who isn’t terribly connected to their bio-parents, that type of thing. And yeah, a lot of people I knew ended up aging out.”

“Did you?”

Her eyes went sideways as she considered it. “Sort of,” she shrugged. “I had two great foster families that I stayed with for a couple of years each, and they were...yeah, they were really great. But I was sent back at sixteen because of an accident in the family.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Jeff and Michelle, those were the parents,” she explained. “Jeff got in this freak jet ski accident, and he ended up paralyzed from the neck down. He needed all of this help from Michelle, and she didn’t have time for me.”

“Right,” Phoenix said slowly. “But you were sixteen. It’s not like they had to watch you all the time.”

“I only know what my social worker told me, which was that Michelle had other responsibilities to take care of. Maybe they just didn’t want me around anymore. I’ll probably never know what the true story was. But by that point, I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen. Nobody is going to come in looking for that age bracket, so I just got a job and waited it out. Once I was eighteen, I went into sponsored housing and ta-da!” she exclaimed, throwing jazz-hands into the air. “That’s me.”

“Sounds rough,” he said.

“It,” she paused thoughtfully, “...was.”

“What was your social worker like?”

“Rina?” she brightened. “Oh, she was amazing. A lot of socials end up jaded and cynical about the whole thing. I mean, from a technical standpoint, I can’t blame them. Sometimes they’re dealing with forty kids at one time. But Rina was awesome. She was always there for me, always had a minute to talk, and she still checks up on me. We were close. I remember begging her to adopt me.”

Phoenix smiled at her recollection and asked, “I guess that’s against the rules?”

“Ah, she had her own kids to worry about,” she said. “That’s the thing about growing up in the system. No matter how much somebody likes you, they still think you’re damaged goods.”

“I hate that,” Phoenix said. “That must be an awful feeling. I’m sorry you went through that. But you liked your foster parents?”

“Loved them. I had some others who weren’t so great, don’t get me wrong. There’s a lot of fosters who are just in it for the money or who end up abusing the kids in all these horrible ways. But for the most part, I think everyone, the parents and the socials, they’re just good people looking to help out.”

“I can’t imagine anyone taking on the responsibility of being someone’s parent just to mistreat them,” he said.

“I could tell you some stories,” she said. “But, it’s not something I like to dwell on. The only thing I want to focus on is looking for a way to help these kids going forward.”

Phoenix ran a hand along her forehead and brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face. He studied her carefully and said, “Which is exactly what we’re going to do here at the ranch.”

And with those words, she fell even more in love with him.

Chapter Fifteen

Phoenix

Four weeks on the road, and Phoenix was just getting started with the tour. His label decided on a whim to add in some extra dates in Japan and Australia and sent him out immediately to start performing.

Japan was amazing, as always. He and Miranda made their way through Kyoto looking at Shinto shrines, historic temples, visiting the monkeys in the bamboo forest, and eating their way through the best ramen and takoyaki the street vendors had to offer.

In Australia, they visited Sydney and the famous opera house, harbor bridge, and walked along the amazing stretches of beach.

They spent two weeks in Japan and two more in Australia and flew home to attend an awards ceremony in Hollywood, in which Phoenix was nominated for the best album of the year.

He was surprised to receive the nomination, considering his album hadn’t been out for very long, but his label was thrilled.

After getting back from Australia, he and Miranda were completely jetlagged—hilariously so. Everything in the world seemed hilarious to them in their sleep-deprived and confused state. If it was five p.m. in Utah on a Monday, it was eleven a.m. Tuesday in Sydney.

Never mind the time difference: gaining a whole day he’d already lived through once he arrived back home was a complete trip.

The two spent five days at the ranch recovering, and he’d never felt happier to be home.

That was a strange feeling. Phoenix was never happy to be back at the ranch. His heart was on tour—which only proved that his heart was most definitely with Miranda now.

After their recovery week, the two flew out to California to attend the music awards ceremony.

The two did red carpet interviews, and once inside the venue, Phoenix was able to introduce Miranda to some of her favorite artists. He loved seeing her so happy.

“Are you nervous?” Miranda asked, leaning into his ear during the show. His nominated category was about to be announced, but he didn’t feel a thing.

“No,” he said simply. “I just go into these things assuming I’m never going to win. That way, I’m never disappointed.”

“Says the guy with a zillion awards on his wall. After tonight, a zillion and one!” she giggled.

“Tonight, the only thing that’s important to me is that we get to relax, take a break from all this traveling, and just hang out together.”

“When you win, I’m going to scream so loud,” she teased, nuzzling into him.

“I’m not going to win,” he chuckled.

Miranda shook her head. “You are so going to win!”

“I am serious, you know?” he said, pulling her hand into his and kissing her knuckles. “You’re the only thing that matters to me in the whole world. I am not sure how I got so lucky to have you in my life.”

“I guess my financial wreckage came at a pretty opportune time for you,” she giggled.

He gave her a playful wink and then leaned in to kiss her. “You are my favorite person in the whole world,” he said genuinely.

“Stop it!” she blushed, batting him away. “This night is supposed to be about you, not about showering me with compliments!”

“What do you want to do when we get back to the ranch?” he asked with a smile, already forgetting about the ceremony around them.

“Nothing,” she said with a big grin.

“Sounds luxurious.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed.

“I was being serious,” he offered.

Miranda fixed a strand of curled blonde hair behind her ear and leaned in even closer to his ear. “After a tour, are you completely wiped out in every way, shape, and form? Like, does coming home feel like this sanctuary, or does constantly being on the road mean that when you get home, you’re bored after a week of living normally?”

“I used to feel that way, I guess,” he said, trying to talk over the announcer. “But something tells me coming home and being with you is going to be a completely different story.”

She gave him a genuine smile, and he couldn’t get over how sweet she looked.

“I can’t get enough of you, Miranda,” he said.

“Well, good, because I can’t get enough of you, either.”

Her words were temporarily cut off by a cheer so deafening, Phoenix momentarily winced. He looked up at the stage and saw that his face was showing on the big screen. The actress announcing the winner was looking at him with lifted brows, moving her hand as if to usher him onto the stage.

“You won!” Miranda screamed, nearly pushing him out of his chair. “Oh my gosh! Go up there! Go get your award!”

Phoenix blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected anything from the ceremony—just another obligation event. But he’d won?

He made his way to the stage and accepted the award, a golden music symbol, from the bedazzled actress in front of him. Then he stammered up to the microphone and said, “I don’t know what to say, genuinely. I’m stunned. This record has only been out for a couple of months, and you have all given it so much love.”

The audience quieted as he began to speak. He felt overwhelmed and then suddenly calm, fixing his eyes on Miranda’s.

“First and foremost, I want to thank my amazing partner, Miranda,” he said, raising the trophy to her. Her eyes brimmed with tears in the audience, and she put her hands together as if she were saying a prayer.

“Her endless support and belief in me have changed my life more than she will ever know,” he said. “I want to thank the fans for making this record a success and for putting up with me over these last two years.”

The audience roared with laughter at his comment. It was true. They’d put up with seclusion, a postponed record, and many, many public embarrassments, and the love they’d shown him, and this record had been overwhelmingly touching.

Then his mind twisted over to Rachel. Would he be remiss not to mention her? After all, without her, the music would not have existed at all.

He cleared his throat nervously and looked down at the award in his hands, running a thumb over it curiously. “I also want to thank the person who blew the breath of life into these songs,” he said. “For better or worse, without this person and the experience we had, there would be no record, no growth, and no music left in me. So, no matter where life takes you now, I’m forever grateful.”

And he was.

Chapter Sixteen

Miranda

After a month of touring and the awards show, Miranda was emotionally and physically exhausted. She liked the excitement of traveling to new places and exploring the towns and cities, but the actual act of traveling—driving, flying, and otherwise being shuttled around by Phoenix’s crew—was a lot to handle for someone unaccustomed to the life of a star.

The awards ceremony was one of the most intense nights Miranda had ever spent outside of her house.

It was extravagant and exciting and completely confusing, all wrapped up in a nice little bow.

She was endlessly proud of Phoenix for his record, his growth, and all he had been able to accomplish while feeling like he was completely worthless. She was horrified at the thought of the upcoming tour and the endless press that seemed to hound them wherever they went—including the ceremony.

Miranda was also touched by Phoenix’s speech and infuriated by it all the same.

“You watched?” Miranda asked as she slid onto Birdie’s couch. She was glad to be back in Utah for the weekend and even happier to get to spend time with who she now considered to be one of her best friends in the world.

“Of course, I watched!” Birdie exclaimed with a bright smile. “You looked gorgeous! I just kept saying to everyone at my house, ‘I know her!’”

Miranda gave an uncomfortable smile and said, “And?”

“And,” Birdie repeated slowly, “Phoenix did great with his performance?”

Miranda nodded. “And?”

“And,” Birdie sighed. “And the speech…”

“The speech!” Miranda repeated. It was what she had been waiting for Birdie to bring up for nearly a half an hour.

“It was awful,” her friend said, cringing. “I mean, it was a great speech. Well-spoken and all that, but as his fiancée…well, let’s just say if I were dating him, I would not be very happy with that.”

“I didn’t even know what to say to him, you know? I’m so proud of him, and he deserved the award, and I know it meant a lot to him,” she rambled, trailing off.

Birdie scrunched up her face sympathetically. “Did you bring it up to him?”

“No,” Miranda said. “I don’t want to seem jealous. And I didn’t want to wreck his night or overreact.”

“To be fair, it’s not like he mentioned her directly.”

“No,” Miranda sighed. “But her, I don’t know—her essence was there! It’s always there. She’s like some horrible ghost haunting us wherever we go, and I’m sick of it.”

“I mean, they have a past together,” Birdie offered with an unenthusiastic smile. “You can’t take that away from him any more than he can take your ex away from you.”

“I know, but my ex is firmly in the past where he belongs.”

“And Rachel isn’t?” she asked.

“Of course not! She’s everywhere I look. She’s at his house, she’s in reporter’s questions, she’s in pictures of him online. The comparisons by the public between she and I are endless. You know? It’s just everything.”

“You don’t think he’s over her?” Birdie asked, her voice laced with concern.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem,” she said.

“What has he done recently that makes you think he still wants her back? Speech aside, he is absolutely crazy about you!”

Miranda scoffed. “Where do I even begin? How about the nursery that I’m not allowed to enter at the house?”

“People need time to get over that kind of thing,” Birdie chided.

“Yes, I understand that, but it’s just this glaring reminder of their relationship. And what about his music? This whole album is basically a vocal shrine to her and their life.”

Birdie gave another wince. “It was his process,” she tried to reason. “Musicians need to work through things in a weird way. Unfortunately for you, that weird way just so happens to be incredibly public and will stay around basically forever.”

“Thanks for that,” Miranda laughed, then her expression soured. “I don’t want to be with someone if I’m the second choice. I’ve already done that relationship, and I can’t do it again. And besides all of that, I don’t think I can ignore everything that happened between them.”

Birdie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The New York...stuff?”

“Oh,” her friend went quiet. “Well, we all make mistakes, and besides, you said he explained all of that to you.”

“I know, and I believe him completely. I just don’t want to be afraid that if I make him mad or if I’m not there for him on the road some night that he’s going to have an ego-trip and go be with one of his fans or someone from the industry.”

“Every couple has to develop a level of trust. Otherwise, a relationship isn’t going to work. Period! It doesn’t matter if you’re famous or not,” Birdie said, always trying to maintain a positive outlook.

“Yeah, but when you’re famous, you sure have a whole lot more opportunities.”

“Trust will come with time,” the brunette said.

Miranda nodded. She knew Birdie was right, but it was hard to be patient. “Then there’s the tour,” she said unsurely. “And listen, I love that he’s touring. I really do. I have been so blessed to go on this adventure with him. But I’ve been shuffled around my whole life, you know? I just found this new stability in my life.”

“You just want to stand still for a while,” her friend acknowledged.

“Yes! I want to be at the ranch. We’ve made a little home here, and I love the ranch so much. I love the experiences, the horses, the people. I just want to make our life here. And look, I know music is his job, and it’s his passion, and I don’t want to take it away from him, but I just don’t want it to be so...consuming. I don’t want to be on tour with him for a year straight, or worse, be away from him for that long.”

“Okay, let me ask you something serious. If Phoenix wasn’t a celebrity and he didn’t have the ranch or all of his money—would you still like him?” Birdie asked.

“If that were the case, I think I would like him even more,” Miranda laughed.

“Then, Miranda, I think you should be telling him all of these things and not me.”

Miranda cringed. As usual, Birdie was right.

She felt sick about the topic for the rest of the day, knowing she had to bring it up with Phoenix.

Growing up, she felt so jaded by the families who took her in. They always seemed to want something from her. Some families wanted her to get over her feelings of abandonment, to be independent and not be so needy. Less respectable homes wanted her body or the money that the state provided for her care. One of the firsts homes she was ever in was a couple who fostered nine children—to them, she was nothing but a paycheck.

Then she met Jeff and Michelle and everything changed. She was with them for almost three years, and she finally felt settled. All she wanted to do was stay home and be with them. She’d been resistant to being comfortable her whole life, but they managed to convince her that she wasn’t going anywhere. She would stay right there with them, under their loving protection.

And then they bailed on her.

She tried not to dwell on what happened in her old life. After all, hadn’t she been incredibly blessed to meet Phoenix? She’d had the chance to fall in love and to feel at home, and she wanted to hold onto that feeling so badly.

It was that very reason that made hesitant to go on tour with Phoenix.

She wished she could be one of those people who said, “Home is wherever you are!” but the truth was that for her, home was Phoenix’s house. That’s where she felt safest and most welcome, and she was terrified that everything would start to change once they left their nest.

Miranda came home late that night after spending the entire day with Birdie and found Phoenix in his office. The door was ajar, and she tapped on it lightly.

He looked up from strumming his guitar and set it down on the black wiry stand near the window before greeting her in the doorway.

Phoenix leaned down and pressed his lips to her, smiled, then whispered, “Welcome home.”

Miranda swallowed nervously. “Can we talk?”

“Yes, yes, we can,” he said.

Phoenix put his hands on her hips and pulled her close to him. He moved to kiss her neck, but she pulled away.

“You asked me before if I was scared,” she said, then reminded him, “About your lifestyle.”

Phoenix tensed and let his hands drop. He looked at her curiously, nervously, and said, “Yes, I remember.”

“I guess I’ve been thinking and,” she shrugged. “I think I’m scared now.”

His blue eyes held sympathy as he cooed, “I understand. It’ll get easier, I promise.”

“See, the thing is, I knew you’d be touring, and I completely understand that it comes with the territory. I get that there will be girls around, and even though I’m not crazy about a bunch of cute teenagers pawing all over you, I get it. You’re handsome and talented, and it’s not their fault that they have good taste.”

“Miranda, you know I would never cheat on you, right?” he asked seriously.

She nodded. “I believe you.”

“I’m not looking for that life. I don’t want to live from girl to girl or to live life not knowing what’s going on or where I’m heading. I want to settle down with you. I want that stability with you.”

“By going on the road for a year?” she said with light sarcasm.

He blinked. “You just said you understood that traveling is part of my job.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you would be gone for a whole year,” she clarified.

“There are breaks in-between shows. Different legs of the tours. I explained that to you. Besides, you’ll be with me, so what’s there to worry about? We’ll be traveling the world together. That’s a pretty once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, isn’t it?”

She felt bad then. She didn’t mean to sound spoiled or thankless; she just wanted more time with Phoenix to breathe.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s exciting, and it’s romantic, and it’s amazing. I’m not trying to sound ungrateful.”

“But?”

“But what about the ranch?” she asked.

“I have people who take care of the ranch when I’m not around.”

“What about the program?” she said. They’d been working on it for months, and to walk away from it now seemed like such a waste. “You said I could build this program for kids, and I want to be here to develop it. I want to stay at the ranch.”

Phoenix narrowed his gaze and instantly looked annoyed. “We can work on it when we get back.”

“In a year?”

“Then we’ll do long distance,” he said with irritation. “If it means that much to you, I’ll tour, and you can stay at the ranch, and we’ll meet in-between.”

“I don’t want to do long distance. Not for a whole year. Please, Phoenix. The last thing I need is for someone else to leave me.”

Though he didn’t say it out loud, Phoenix looked trapped by her statement, and it made her feel terrible. After all, how could he abandon the girl who had been abandoned her whole life?

“I completely understand that,” he said calmly. “But trust me, it’s not going to be as bad as you think. You can come on the road with me for a couple of weeks and then go back for a couple weeks to work on the ranch. We’ll never be far away.”

Her eyes went wide. “Seriously?” she snarked. “That’s your solution?”

He looked down. It was clear he was angry, but he didn’t raise his voice. There was a helpless sadness in his tone as he said, “I don’t know what you want me to do, Miranda. I can’t change my job for you. That’s not fair.”

“You told me to tell you if it was getting too much for me,” she said, growing frustrated. “I’m just trying to be honest.”

“Where’s all of this coming from? You were excited about this tour a couple of days ago. Now you’re...what? Breaking up with me?” he asked.

“I’m not breaking up with you; I’m talking to you,” she said firmly.

Phoenix searched her eyes, but it was clear that he couldn’t read her. He spread his palms to her and said, “Then let’s talk.”

“Fine,” she said, feeling suddenly emotional. She nodded toward his chest and said, “Let’s talk about your necklace.”

Phoenix looked like he’d just been punched. He seemed to study her every feature but said nothing. They just sat there in suffocating silence.

“You wear her ring around your neck like it’s a lifeline,” she said, getting heated.

“That’s what this is about?” he exclaimed.

She stared at the imprint of his ex-fiancée’s ex-symbol of love on a silver chain from under his shirt and snapped, “You said you were done with her, and yet you wear her engagement ring every single day. You wear it to shows, you wear it when we kiss, and you touch it over and over when you’re writing. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I am not in love with Rachel,” he said, enunciating his words as though she were challenging him.

“That’s not what it looks like to me,” she said quickly. “The ring, the room, the songs, the speech!”

“I didn’t say her name. Not once.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to! Everyone knew who you were talking about. Do you know how embarrassing that is for me?”

“I said if she weren’t in my life, the record wouldn’t exist. Is there anything about that statement that is incorrect?”

“Sure, fine,” she said quickly. “But why say it at all? I feel like you’re always looking for ways to reach out to her or to connect or something.”

Miranda put up a hand. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. “The bottom line is that I can’t go on this journey with you if it ends with me alone, or worse, as your second choice.”

“You are not my second choice,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What if Rachel came back tomorrow and begged you for your forgiveness? What if she said she was done with your brother and she wanted a second chance with you?”

Miranda played that scenario over and over in her head. It was her absolute nightmare.

“Then I wouldn’t care!” he shouted, finally getting angry. “I love you, Miranda. I’m not just going to throw that away for someone who’s left me once before!”

“I don’t believe you,” she said with an indignant shrug.

“Then that’s your problem,” he said icily.

“Yeah,” she said sternly. “It is.”

Chapter Seventeen

Phoenix

Phoenix went to Los Angeles; he had one more show in California before he could go home to the ranch.

He was in Los Angeles alone. He had tried to invite Miranda, but she seemed dead-set on staying at the ranch.

“I’m going to California tomorrow,” he said, breaking their streak of awkward silence over the last couple of days. “Are you coming?”

“No,” she said stubbornly. Miranda had decided to stay with Birdie while he was gone. She said she needed time to think.

Needing time to think was one of the most terrifying phrases a man could ever hear from the woman he loves.

Opposite of Miranda, Phoenix couldn’t think at all. He couldn’t concentrate without her. He was in the middle of a set, singing in front of thousands of paying fans when he decided he’d had enough. He didn’t want to play or sing; he didn’t want to put on the act of the charming front man. He just wanted to go home and be with Miranda and make things right.

That girl was special. She was someone Phoenix could imagine spending the rest of his life with. He could envision nights on the road and endless conversations, exploring the world with her and even starting a family one day.

He wanted these things more than he had wanted anything in a long time. But like usual, he’d realized everything he needed to do too late.

Miranda didn’t want his life, and the last thing wanted was to pull someone else into his world of writing and touring who didn’t want to be there.

Without warning, Phoenix walked off stage mid-song. He unhooked his guitar strap and set the Taylor down on a stand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” one of his team asked, frantically running to catch up with him.

“I’m leaving. I can’t stay here,” he said.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked.

Phoenix shrugged. “I have to go.”

“You’re finishing out this show,” the man insisted. “You’ve got thousands of fans out there who paid good money to see you play. You can’t just leave them there!”

“I can’t do it, John,” he said firmly. “Not tonight.”

And just like that, Phoenix walked out.

He wanted to make things right with Miranda, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t give up his career for her; he just couldn’t. But he didn’t want to give up on them being together.

He hoped that ‘time to think’ didn’t translate to ‘time to work up the nerve to break up.’ He hoped that by the time he came home, she would have worked out everything that bothered her about traveling and that they could go back to being happy.

But then there was the whole Rachel thing.

When she’d asked if he was still in love with Rachel or if he would go back to her, given the opportunity, he vehemently said no. His reaction surprised him, but it was the truth. He didn’t want to be with Rachel; he wanted to be with Miranda.

There were just some things that were harder to let go of than he thought. He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to redo the nursery in his ranch home. To repaint and repurpose the room would be a sign that it was all true—not that he wasn’t with Rachel anymore, but that his child had died, and he had missed out on fatherhood.

But if he didn’t love Rachel, then why couldn’t he take off her ring?

Perhaps he needed time to think, too.

Phoenix then made the impulsive decision—the right decision—to drive from California to Wyoming, stopping briefly to eat and sleep, until he pulled up the long driveway in front of Hunter’s modest and rustic log-cabin.

He needed to see for himself how he felt about the girl from his past life. He needed to put the nail in the coffin on the saga of Rachel and Phoenix. He needed to know deep in his soul that he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t love her anymore.

Phoenix idled in the car, pressing his lips thin and willing Rachel into existence. Surely, if they had any connection, she would know he was there and come out to greet him.

But, of course, she did not come to the door. She did not sense him, just like he didn’t sense her.

Despite his intense desire not to knock on his brother’s door after a year without speaking, he clicked the engine off and took his first step onto the paved driveway.

Phoenix had presented his music to professionals, he’d had his creativity questions and critiqued, and he’d played in front of ten thousand people, but none of those experiences compared to the nerves he felt walking up the steps to Hunter’s front door.

He didn’t text. Didn’t call. He didn’t even know if either of them would be home, but he knew he had to take the chance if he wanted something real with Miranda.

His knuckles hit the front door so softly, he almost hoped they wouldn’t hear it.

There were long panes of glass on either side of the entrance, and Phoenix’s heart skipped when he saw Rachel walking toward the door. She wore jeans and a sweater, and her long dark hair was down in a cascade of waves.

She was absolutely perfect.

His ex hesitated in the hallway, caught by surprise at the sight of him, balancing on one foot.

For a moment, he wondered if she would spin on her heel and ignore him, but his fears were eased when she found her footing and pulled the thick wooden door open.

“Hey,” she said with nervous hesitation. “Are you okay?”

This was not an unusual greeting. Not after everything that had happened between them. It was no surprise that she figured it must have been some kind of family emergency for him to be speaking to her.

Phoenix’s mouth went dry. He was overcome with emotion at the sight of her: fear, pain, love. He went to speak but couldn’t seem to force any words out. He swallowed hard, pulling moisture back into his mouth and said, “I don’t know. I guess I was hoping I could talk to you.”

Rachel’s expression brightened and she stepped back, offering him entry into the house.

He stared at the metal lining between the foyer and the front stairs as though he were standing on a steep precipice. He didn’t move as he said, “Can we talk out here?”

“He isn’t here,” Rachel offered.

Phoenix’s stomach eased with that information. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to walk into the love nest his brother had created with his ex-fiancée.

“I would prefer to talk outside if that’s alright,” he said.

Rachel kept a hand on the door as she said, “It’s just Hunter’s house. We’ve been here a thousand times together.”

“But we’re not together,” he said simply. “Please, can we talk in my car?”

“You’re not going to kidnap me, are you, Phoenix?” she teased, gesturing toward his black SUV.

Phoenix couldn’t help the smirk pulling at the corner of his lip. She was still as charming as ever.

He shook his head, and his ex conceded, slipping on a pair of thick rubber rain boots and pulling her sweater tight as she stepped out onto the porch.

The pair walked down the curved staircase to the driveway in silence and entered his car. Phoenix wrung his hands together and stared out the front window at Hunter’s garage door. It was obvious that he was nervous, but Rachel was as calm as ever.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” he said after moments of agonizing silence.

Rachel spread the fingers on her left hand, toying with her new engagement ring uncomfortably.

“You didn’t seriously come five hundred miles just to say that, did you?” she said with breathy humor.

“Seven hundred miles, actually,” he said and finally looked at her. “I was in California.”

She raised both brows and quipped, “And you just felt like the world’s most random road trip?”

“I walked out on a show, actually.”

She scoffed. “That’s a first.”

Rachel reached across the center console and set her hand on his forearm, squeezing him gently as she said, “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Phoenix was still having trouble getting his words out. Being around her felt like the strangest mix of bittersweet relief to see her again and strange discomfort to be seeing her as someone other than his girlfriend.

He stayed silent, unsure as usual how to communicate with her.

“I was never really good at that, was I?” he said, then clarified, “Talking to you.”

“Absolutely freaking not,” she smiled.

“You never had that problem with Hunter.”

His ex pulled in a tired breath and said, “Let’s not talk about him.”

Phoenix let out a small, bitter laugh and confessed, “For the longest time, it was all I thought about. ‘How could she do this to me?’ ‘Why were we so easy to give up on?’ But then I realized you gave up because I gave up. Didn’t you?”

Rachel’s expression was soft and sympathetic. Months ago, her understanding would have infuriated him, but he readily accepted it now. He was ready to have the adult conversation they should have had from the moment they broke up.

“We weren’t right for each other,” she explained slowly. “We were together because we needed to be together at the time.”

“To what end?” he asked with a small shrug.

“To learn.”

“Ah,” he said. “And what did you learn?”

Rachel licked her lips, and her brown eyes went skyward. She tilted her head back, staring up through the moonroof of his SUV.

“Do you remember the day my dad left?” she asked. “I came to your house looking for Hunter and—”

“He was out planning your birthday,” he finished.

“Right, and you asked me if I needed to talk.”

Phoenix remembered the day well. It was the day they became “Phoenix and Rachel.”

Her father, a police officer, had been shot while apprehending a murder suspect. After his recovery, he’d left Rachel and her mother for another woman—his partner. He’d taken her to a police monument and tried his best to give her an outsider’s perspective.

“I told you that I couldn’t believe my father left us, and you told me it had nothing to do with me. I said, ‘How could it not?’ or something like that,” she explained. “And you said: ‘When your life flashes before your eyes, every moment becomes precious.’”

“You remember that?”

She smiled. “Of course. Those words changed my life. You told me that the moment you realize how fragile life is, you won’t waste another minute of it living unhappily.”

Phoenix scoffed, moving his arm away from her hand as he said, “So basically I inspired you to leave me.”

Rachel shook her head. “You inspired me to live.”

Phoenix’s eyes trailed across the leather interior of the vehicle until they fixated once more on the ring she wore. It felt strange to see her promised to someone else. She had only ever been his and to imagine her walking down the aisle and going through with marrying someone else—to end their saga so permanently—didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

“It wasn’t all bad, was it, Rach?”

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t all bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, testing the words on his tongue. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

Rachel’s eyes flicked back and forth from his. She must have been surprised because she didn’t respond. Phoenix had never known Rachel to be speechless.

“I should have come home,” he said, pulling a hand up and covering his face with it. “The night you lost the baby, I should have come home.”

Rachel swallowed, and he could feel her whole demeanor stiffen. “Phoenix, we don’t have to keep reliving this.”

“All I did for the last year is relive it,” he said, his words becoming more frantic and laced with emotion as he stammered, “You were right, Rach. I became this person that I didn’t recognize, and I lost everything to an ego. I lost you, I lost our baby—”

“Don’t say that,” she said harshly, pulling his hand away from his eyes.

“The stress I put you under,” he began, his expression pained. “It was my fault,” he said, his voice croaked through tears, “I know it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said firmly. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault. You could have been working from nine to five and coming home for dinner every night and it would have been the same. It wasn’t my fault; it wasn’t your fault. Please, don’t think that. I don’t.”

He looked at her in surprise. “No?”

“Of course not.”

Silence filled the car once more, and he reached over to hold her hand. Rachel held his cold fingers against hers and then, to his surprise, pulled him into a warm hug. It was awkward over the center console, but he was grateful for it.

When he had driven to Wyoming, he had half expected to end up in a screaming match with Rachel or Hunter. Maybe both. But they had won, hadn’t they? After all, they were in love. They had nothing to be bitter about anymore. They had their ranch and their life.

Phoenix was glad they weren’t fighting, but he hadn’t expected Rachel to be so kind to him after everything they had been through.

“I miss you guys,” he said, surprising himself with the words.

“We miss you, too, Phoenix,” she said, and he shook his head. “We do!” she insisted. “It was always the three of us. We were like the little kids, and you were our protector! I mean, seriously, do you know how hard it is to stay out of trouble without you around to say when something is ridiculous?”

“Like doing a polar swim?” he said with a sad chuckle, reflecting on Hunter and Rachel’s teenage disaster.

Rachel laughed too. “Or pulling out an on-the-spot karaoke machine in the middle of a crowded restaurant?”

He smiled at the memories, then went sullen. “I’ve really needed someone to talk to.”

“Do you think it’s easy for me not to talk to you?” she asked. He wanted to say yes, but she spoke again before he had the chance. “It was hard for me, too. It’s just...weird.”

“About as weird as that ring on your finger,” he said.

She looked down at her hand, then up at him. She tilted her head to the side and softly said, “I can’t apologize for it, Phoenix. I love him.”

“I’m falling in love with someone, too,” he said.

He didn’t mean for it to sound like a competition, and thankfully, it didn’t. Just a quiet admission.

“Miranda,” she said with a nod. The name seemed strange coming off of her lips. “I saw your picture from the awards show. Engaged?”

Phoenix shook his head.

“PR push that?” she asked.

“They thought it would be good for my image to have some stability in my life. She was just this sort of...girlfriend, I guess. Someone to hang out with. But the thing is, I’m falling for her.”

For the smallest moment, Rachel looked unsettled. Then she offered him a small smile and said, “Then I’m happy for you.”

“I’m scared, Rach.”

“Of what?”

“Doing it all over again,” he said, raising a hand to the air. “Falling in love. Getting my heart broken. I’m scared I’m not going to be good enough for her. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Why would you lose her?” she asked.

“She doesn’t like the lifestyle. She wants to be at the ranch.”

Rachel snorted. “Sounds familiar.”

“Then there’s you.”

“Me?” she repeated in surprise.

“She thinks I’m still in love with you.”

“Well, I am pretty fantastic,” she said with a playful arrogance. “Kidding!” Nudging him, she said, “I am no one she has to be worried about anymore.”

He looked at her and felt a strange sensation wash over him. Was this what closure felt like?

Months ago, hearing her say those words would have scarred Phoenix, but he felt nothing. She was right. Rachel was no one Miranda had to worry about because he didn’t love her anymore. He knew that now.

Phoenix nodded, but said nothing, prompting Rachel to ask, “You know that, right?”

He considered her question. “For a long time, I didn’t. I thought if I could convince you that New York was a misunderstanding and that if I could write you the perfect record, then...” he trailed off into a laugh. “I don’t know? You’d come running to me? It’s stupid. I was just so confused.”

“You did write the perfect record, Phoenix.”

He perked up at this, curiously watching as she slipped her phone out of her back pocket and pulled up her media player. His record was currently on repeat.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “It’s the best thing you’ve ever done creatively. And if there were any record in the world that could make me see how great we were together, it would be this one. But,” she shrugged.

“I know,” he agreed. “We weren’t meant to be. I was so wrapped up in my misery that, for the longest time, I thought we were soulmates, but I can see the mistakes we made. I could never talk to you, Rach. But you and Hunter, you guys have, like, your own language. You know what each other is thinking without ever saying a word. I spent ten years trying to figure you out, and I’m still lost.”

Rachel didn’t dare touch that subject. Instead, she asked, “And what about Miranda?”

“We talk,” he said. “Really talk. She makes me want to be a better person.”

“So be better,” she said confidently. “You wouldn’t be happy if you gave up what you love, and I mean that about the music and your girl. So, make it work. Convince her you’re in it for the long haul. Find an arrangement that works and enjoy your ranch,” she said, emphasizing her last three words and prompting a smile from him.

“You can do this,” she added. “I promise you.”

Before he had a chance to respond, he heard a loud knock on the driver’s side window that startled him into a jump. He rolled the window down and saw that it was Hunter.

His brother’s hair was short, freshly clipped, and he had a scattering of facial stubble. He wore a thick hoodie sporting his ranch’s logo and no jacket.

For a moment, Phoenix wondered if he was about to have the fight he had been anticipating. He wondered if Hunter would yell or tell him to get off his property, but no, he wasn’t cruel or dismissive. He was just...Hunter.

“Who died?” his brother said with humor, leaning forward to get a better peek into the car.

“Nobody,” Phoenix said. “I came to talk, believe it or not.”

“Oh, geez, I thought you were here because of Mom!”

Phoenix narrowed his brows curiously. “Why would I be here because of Mom?”

“I guess she ‘can’t take Kennedy anymore’ and she’s trying to pawn her off on one of us for the summer,” Hunter said with a mischievous grin. “Let me tell you this right now, she’s not coming here!”

“No,” Phoenix said. “I hadn’t heard that one yet, but I haven’t talked to her in a while, so...”

“Then consider this a head’s up not to answer your phone when she calls,” his brother said with his usual charming banter.

“That’d be the day!” Rachel chimed in. “Mama Brooks would send out a search party if Phoenix ignored her call!”

“There’d be police, an ambulance,” Hunter said quickly.

“Helicopters!” Rachel added.

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Smoke signals!”

Phoenix laughed against his will. He didn’t want to be charmed by the pair, but he couldn’t help himself. His heart wasn’t with Rachel anymore, and while being around the two of them felt strange after not seeing them for so long, it also felt right. They were meant for each other; even he could see that.

“Hey, you wanna come in?” Hunter asked. His tone was even, but Phoenix could see his expression was laced with excitement.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, gesturing toward the clock on the dashboard. “I have to get going.”

Without a doubt, Hunter looked disappointed. “One drink,” his brother offered.

Phoenix looked at his little brother—the sibling he had loved so dearly and then hated so deeply—and then felt the anger he once held in his soul wash away like melting ice, slow but sure.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Alright, Hunter. One drink.”

Chapter Eighteen

Miranda

Miranda was in a panic.

She hadn’t seen Phoenix since he left for California days ago, and one of his team members had called her and asked if she had heard from him.

She texted him and asked where he was, and he responded almost immediately.

“Just clearing my head,” he texted.

“John says you bailed on a show?”

Again, he responded quickly, “Bailed on the last two songs. I needed to think. I'll be on the road. Ditched my flight and I'm driving back. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” she said eagerly.

She expected him home the next day, but after three had passed, she started to get worried. Did he binge alcohol and go on some sort of bender? Did she depress him, and he'd changed his mind about being with her? Did he get into an accident?

These worries plagued her thoughts, but every time she called or texted, he was always available. He was pleasant and loving over the phone, though their chats weren't long. Whenever she would ask him something deep or important, he would only say that they would talk when he got home.

She told Phoenix she needed time to think, and that was exactly what she had been doing since he left. She thought about what life would be like without him and considered what her life would be like if they stayed together.

Her life would be invaded, was the answer she kept coming to. People would want to know about her life, her family, her screwed-up background. They would constantly compare her to other women who had been in Phoenix's life. They would make it impossible to enjoy a meal at a restaurant; they would make up rumors about her love life that would irritate her to no end.

But the longer he was gone, the more she began to think about what her life would be like if they stayed together, and the more she longed for him.

Her life with Phoenix was exciting; it was full of compassion, deep conversations, laughter, and stability. Not to mention, his parents had welcomed her with open arms, and she felt such affection from them after just one meeting, she already knew she was addicted.

Phoenix would always be there for her, she could feel it in her gut, and she loved him. She loved Phoenix in a way she didn't think was possible. It was so deep and so fulfilling, she knew she could no longer imagine life without him.

How she would deal with his life on the road remained to be seen, but she would do anything to make it work. She knew that now.

Now, if only Phoenix were home for her to share all of her insights with.

Three days after Phoenix ditched his show in California, he finally came home.

Miranda was laying in her bed when she saw the lights from his car flash through her window. Without a second thought, she leaped out of bed and ran to the front door. She pulled it open and ran down the walkway to meet him there.

She threw her arms around him and jumped up. He caught her and squeezed her tightly, both relishing the feeling of being back together.

"Where have you been?” she asked.

"Just wait,” he said, smiling warmly at her and raising a hand. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

"Phoenix, where have you been?” she asked again, happy to see him but unable to keep the words from coming out. “Jonathan called asking me where you were, and he said you left your show and—”

"You were right,” he said, cutting her off in the sweetest way possible.

"About what?” she asked, sinking into his embrace.

Phoenix took a moment to be silent and take her all in. She instantly settled, feeling comforted to be near him again, no matter where he had been. She knew now she didn’t want to be away from him—and whether that was a purposeful lesson on his behalf or not, she was grateful for it.

When Phoenix pulled away, his gentle expression turned pensive, and he said, "You were right about feeling nervous about Rachel, and that's entirely my fault.”

Miranda’s heart sank. "You still love her?”

Phoenix shook his head. "Just the opposite,” he said. “Look, this is going to sound bad at first, but just hear me out, okay?”

She swallowed. "Okay.”

"I left the show because I needed to see you,” he said.

"And then you were gone for three days?” she asked.

He watched her carefully and said, "I went to Wyoming.”

“Because?” she said, forcing the word out.

"I went to see Rachel,” he confirmed.

She set her jaw. That’s why he left? That’s where he went? To see Rachel? Seriously?

"Ah,” she snorted, raising her brows. “So, you went to hurt me.”

He gave a soft laugh, and Miranda gave a deep frown. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse me for not finding this as hilarious as you do.”

“I don’t find it hilarious,” he said. “You’re just so cute, and I love you so much.”

She brightened and looked up at him. “Then why did you go?”

“I went because I needed to prove to myself that I was done with that life—with carrying around all of that resentment and that hope. And then I saw her, and you know what I felt?”

"What?” she asked breathless.

"Nothing,” he said, and Miranda instantly settled.

He felt nothing, she repeated in her mind. He saw her, and he felt nothing.

“I don't love her, Miranda,” he said with a smile. His voice was confident and relieved. “I don't hate her either, because she doesn't mean anything to me anymore.”

He pulled the chain off of his neck, breaking the silver clasp and tossing the ring onto the ground beneath them. He looked down at it and then up at her. He shrugged and said, “And I don't wear the ring because I'm still in love with Rachel. I wear it to remind myself not to be so stupid in the future. I don't want to take something I love for granted ever again. And do you know the only thing I thought about when I was on the plane? Ditching my show? Driving to Wyoming?”

She smiled and shook her head, but she had a good idea of what his answer might be.

"I thought about you because you're the only thing that matters,” he said, squeezing her hand. “All I wanted to do was get home to you and see you and hold you and tell you that you are the love of my life, and I don't want to spend another day without you.”

"Are you sure?” she asked, but she knew he had already won her over. She wanted to be with Phoenix. She already felt giddy at the thought of a forever with him.

He nodded. “I made my peace with the past.”

She raised a brow. “Even with Hunter?”

"Yeah..." he paused. "Hunter, too. We talked."

"You talked?” she repeated in surprise.

He smiled. "I told him about you and how crazy I am about you. We shook hands and…that's it, Miranda. It's over.”

"So...”

"I don't want to hold anything back from you,” he said genuinely. “I did a lot of thinking on the road. You told me that you were worried about traveling, about being on the road, and I get it. Believe me, I completely get it. And all I kept coming back to is that I want to be with you, no matter what. So, I talked to Adam, and we reworked the tour.”

She blinked in surprise. “You…did?”

"I won't do the world tour,” he grinned. “I told them no. Can you believe it, Miranda? I told them no!” Phoenix began to laugh. He looked so free and so happy that Miranda couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“At least, I won't do it the way they want me to,” he said. “We agreed to do two weeks on and two weeks off. I'll always be back at the ranch, and we'll be able to focus on the youth program. I told them this was more important than music, and I don't want to burn myself out like I did last time and tour for years on end. It's not good for me. Not good for my soul, my health, my heart.”

She couldn’t help herself or the tears of joy that fell from her eyes as she watched the beautiful man in front of her staring at her.

“Seriously?” she said happily. “You did all of that for me?”

"The ranch is our home,” he said. “And I want to be home. The only question is if you want to be home with me?”

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “Always.”

“Then let’s go home,” he said, nodding up to the ranch.

Want more Cowboy Billionaires? CLICK HERE for the next book in this series called “A Cowboy Billionaire Secret Baby”!

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About the Author

Hanna Hart is a passionate sweet clean contemporary romance author who has found the love for writing since the age of 6.

Hanna lives in the beautiful Santa Cruz California with her loving husband, two children and dog Milo. Other then dreaming up of extremely sweet & romantic stories, Hanna enjoys spending time with her family, going to the beach, cooking great food, travelling the world, and getting a lot of exercise.

Hanna’s purpose is to delivery very sweet romantic stories to her readers that will touch their hearts in a very meaningful taking them to another place that will positively impact their life.

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