“I can’t play if you sit on my guitar, Syd. I need some space here.”
The bird hopped onto his shoulder.
“Much better. Now, fast or slow?”
“Bejabbers,” Syd squawked.
“You need a handbook explaining what you’re saying,” Ryan muttered as he started strumming.
He’d been here three days and still hadn’t made plans to leave. He liked that no one knew his location—with the exception of most of Lake Howling, but they seemed to be unaffected by his reappearance, which was great, if a little weird, and yes, his ego took a hit when they didn’t seem to care that he had achieved what he had. Especially as when he left here the only thing driving him had been putting distance between himself and his hometown.
His band and manager also knew he’d come home, but they wouldn’t contact him again for at least a week. After that, they’d want to know when he was returning.
He was sitting on the small deck in an old rocking chair with his guitar and an African parrot. It was the first guitar he’d bought himself from his earnings playing in a pub in London, and his favorite.
He strummed and hummed for a while, relishing the peace of being here alone. No one wanted anything from him. No PR, no groupies, nothing but him. This was more the life he’d imagined for himself. Solitude and a small cabin somewhere in the woods to do what he loved best. Play the guitar.
“Scallywag!” Syd squawked.
He sang for a while, slipping from one song to another. He shared singing with Talon’s front man, Elijah. Ryan liked that he wasn’t the face of the band. Liked that he wasn’t the one everyone wanted a piece of.
When he stopped to make himself coffee, he heard the clapping. Standing, he looked at the trees and watched as Ethan Gelderman pushed his way through them.
“Sorry, I wasn’t deliberately stalking you. I was out for a hike. I live that way.” He waved a hand behind him. “I heard you playing and stopped to listen, then kind of stayed.” His smile was wide and friendly. “Now, I hate when people invade my privacy, so I thought about just leaving, then thought that was stalkerish, so clapping seemed my best option.”
“Applause is always appreciated,” Ryan said as the man walked closer. He wore shorts and a long-sleeved fitted exercise shirt. “You want coffee? I was just about to make some.”
“Won’t say no now I can actually manage to be in your company without humiliating myself. Hey, Syd.”
“Pigeon livered!” the bird squawked before hopping inside.
“The thing you can rely on with Syd is keeping it real.” Ethan laughed. “Annabelle is pretty sure he was raised by a pirate.”
“Makes sense.”
Hope had told him about Ethan Gelderman. Rich, successful, and from an oil family, but he and his brother Brad didn’t rely on the family money as they had their own. Both flew helicopters.
“I sing and play a musical instrument for a living, you fly helicopters, fought for your country, and from what I gather are a pretty smart guy. It’s likely me that should be nervous around you,” Ryan said, heading back inside the cabin.
“I’m not short on confidence, it has to be noted.” Ethan followed. “The problem comes, Ryan, when I find something I like. Book, song, it doesn’t matter what. I get kind of obsessive. I have all your music.” He flashed a smile.
“I was like that the first time I met a few of my music heroes. I couldn’t speak and ended up stammering out some words that made no sense.”
He made the coffee, then poured them two mugs. He added cream and sugar to his. Picking up the small box of cupcakes, he offered it to Tex, then handed Syd one of the treats Mac had said he’d love.
“Are these the cupcakes you decorated?”
“Why am I not surprised you know that.”
“Small towns” was all the Texan said, following him back out to the deck. “Okay, lay it on me. Who have you met?”
Ryan reeled off a few of the more famous names, and Ethan whistled. He then opened the box and took out a cupcake.
“Seriously though, bud, you ever tire of singing, don’t even think about cake decorating. This looks like something Buddy would excrete.”
“Noah and Lucy’s dog, right?”
“Yup.”