Page 33 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

I stood near the side of the house, my chest tightening at my sister’s words. She was right—this Christmas had been different. Fuller and so much brighter.

“And honestly,” Flynn added, placing a hand on Keltie’s arm, “it’s been so nice to see a smile on my brother’s face again. That’s a credit to you and Luna, truly.”

I felt a strange mix of emotions—grateful for Flynn’s kindness, but worried she might overwhelm Keltie with her earnestness. Heat crept up my neck at the realization that Flynn had noticed the effect Keltie had on me. Was I that transparent?

While I wanted to join them, make sure Keltie was okay, if I appeared now, they’d know I’d been listening. I remained frozen in place, unsure what to do, the cold seeping through my boots as I shifted my weight.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Flynn suggested. “It’s freezing out here, and I think Irish made fresh hot chocolate. The real kind, with cocoa, not the powdered mix. And I think I saw him adding a splash of peppermint schnapps to the grown-up version.”

Keltie laughed, the sound warm and genuine, melting some of the tension from her posture. “That sounds perfect,” she replied, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. “We’ll stay a bit longer.”

Relief washed over me—both that I could now go in without revealing I’d been eavesdropping and that Keltie had agreed tostay. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted her to remain until that moment, how much her presence had begun to feel right, here among my family.

I was about to head around to the front door when Buck approached from behind, his boots crunching on the frozen ground.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low. He jerked his chin toward the main gates, visible in the distance down the long, winding driveway. “Ben Rice is on his way in.”

I felt tension knot in my stomach. “He probably plans to convince me to come on tour with them.” The thought of explaining the trust situation to yet another person exhausted me.

“I think he already knows why you can’t,” Buck replied, his breath forming small clouds between us in the cold air.

“How?” I asked, my gaze darting to the driveway, where the vehicle was quickly approaching.

“I had to tell Matt Rice about both Cord and Porter,” Buck explained, rubbing his gloved hands together against the cold. “He’s our partner in roughstock contracting. He needed to know.”

“At least I won’t have to explain everything.” I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for the inevitable awkwardness.

Ben arrived a couple of minutes later with his wife, Liv. Their SUV rolled to a stop in the circular driveway, the engine purring before falling silent. After exiting the vehicle, he bounded over with his usual energy, all smiles as he clapped me on the back.

“Merry Christmas, Wheaton!” he exclaimed, his voice booming in the quiet of the winter afternoon. “Sorry to crash your family gathering. Liv insisted we drop by since we were in the area.” His gregarious smile was as bright as ever, even as his eyes held a hint of concern.

“Ben, Liv,” I greeted them, forcing cordiality into my voice despite the anxiety churning in my gut. “It’s good to see you both, and merry Christmas.”

Liv kissed my cheek after greeting Buck. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” she said softly.

“Not at all. Come on in.”

As we entered the house, the warmth enveloped us immediately, along with the mingled scents of pine from the Christmas tree, cinnamon from Flynn’s baking, and the rich aroma of Irish’s homemade hot chocolate. Ben’s gaze swept the room, taking in the festive decorations, the scattered toys, and the family gathered in small groups, chatting. His eyes stopped abruptly when he spotted Keltie standing near the fireplace, cradling a mug between her hands. His face lit up with recognition, eyes widening in genuine surprise.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Ben exclaimed, crossing the room in long strides and pulling her into a bear hug before she could react. Her mug sloshed as she struggled to keep it from spilling. “Keltie Marquez! How the hell are you?”

I watched in confusion as Keltie stiffened in his embrace, her eyes meeting mine over Ben’s shoulder. The color drained from her face, replaced by a deer-in-headlights expression that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

“So, how do you two know each other?” My mind raced with the possibilities, none of them easing the sudden tightness in my chest.

Ben released Keltie, keeping one arm slung around her shoulders. She looked small beside his burly frame, and I could see the tension in her jaw and the tremble in her hands as she set her mug down on the mantel. “The Goat, of course. Plus, Keltie used to work for CB Rice. She was one of the best sound engineers we ever had.” He turned to me, seemingly oblivious to Keltie’s growing discomfort. Her shoulders hunched as ifbracing for impact. “This was right before you joined up with us, Holt.”

The revelation stunned me. Keltie had worked for CB Rice? Why hadn’t she mentioned it? We’d spent enough time talking about how I couldn’t join them on tour.

Ben turned to face her. “It’s good to see you, girl. You left us so quickly I never even got to say goodbye. One day, you were there; the next—poof! Gone.” He shook his head, still chuckling, though Keltie had gone pale, her brown eyes standing out starkly against her bloodless complexion.

Liv stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. Her perceptive gaze flicked between Keltie’s rigid posture and my own bewildered expression. “Ben, honey. Maybe we should talk about why we’re here?”

She smiled apologetically at Keltie, seeming to sense her discomfort. The silent communication between the two women spoke volumes—a shared understanding of when men were being obtuse.

“Right,” Ben agreed, turning to me. “Holt, can I have a private word with you?”

“Sure,” I said, glancing at Keltie, who was already heading toward the hallway, her eyes avoiding mine. The distance she was placing between us left me cold.

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