Should he refer to Mr. Mick Ryan by his full name? By Mick? Esquire? Jesus, he had no idea. He wasn’t good with social graces. He drank, swore and played his guitar too loud. The doctor claimed he’d be dead by fifty. Maybe.
He exited the plane and strode through the chute to the gate. Since the regulations had changed, no one could meet their loved ones at the gate. He had to find Mr. Mick Ryan by the baggage claim belts. He hadn’t brought a bag needing to go through the baggage claim. Everything he had was in his checked bag.
Then again, he wouldn’t be staying long.
He spotted a man at the bottom of the escalator with a sign.
Evan Conley
He waved. “Hi.” Was this Mick?
The man offered his hand. “Hi, Evan. I’m Mick. We spoke on the phone.”
No shit. Mick was unmistakable. He was also Michael. He’d managed a better haircut and his braces had to be long gone, but he was still thin. His smile widened and sent a tingle through Evan’s being. Mick wasn’t wearing his glasses. When he shook hands with Evan, he used a strong grip.
“We went to school together,” Mick said. “Didn’t we?”
“We did. You were a few years behind me.” Evan fidgeted with his bag. “Cedarwood pride, right?”
“Cedarwood is better than when we were in school.” Mick pointed to the baggage corral. “Do you need to get your things?”
“Nope. All I’ve got is in this one.” Evan nodded once. “We can leave.”
“Then let’s go. It takes about forty-five minutes to get to town and your grandmother wants to see you.” Mick gestured for Evan to come along.
“How is she?” He fell into step beside Mick. “Life got out of control and I lost touch with her.” He should’ve been home before now. He could chase his dream or run the farm. The dream was more fun but harder work. The farm was routine.
Mick sighed as they rode the conveyor through the airport. “I’m just on the second level of the parking garage. We should be able to go right across.”
“Thanks.” He couldn’t be angry with Mick. The man was just doing his job. Mick didn’t need to be gruff, though. Evan rode the conveyor in silence.
Mick strode through the parking garage to a black sedan. “Do you want to put that in the back or the trunk?”
“Between my feet is fine.” He shrugged. “But the back seat would be fine.” He opened the rear of the vehicle and placed the bag on the seat. He hadn’t even brought his guitar along. Damn it. He’d have to call his manager, Lawrence, to send it to him.
Mick slid behind the wheel.
Evan joined him in the front seat. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“I’m only doing it for Martha,” Mick snapped. “I’m not a go-fer.”
“Never said you were.” Evan settled on his side of the vehicle. He hated the uneasiness between them, but they were virtual strangers. “How is my grandmother?”
“Not good,” Mick said. He paid the fee and drove out of the parking garage. He said nothing until he’d blended into the traffic on the freeway. “She developed lung cancer and it metastasized. She says she’s waiting for you to come home so she can rest. It really isn’t going to be long.”
“Damn.” He could use the situation for one of his songs, but he hated that he had to go through this part of life. He didn’t know how to deal with his emotions other than through his music.
“Uh-huh.” Disdain colored Mick’s voice.
He wasn’t in the mood to spend the next forty-five minutes with an angry Mick. “Why don’t you spit it out and tell me why you’re so mad? We have to be together and we’ll have to for at least a few weeks. I’d rather be on speaking terms than fighting.”
Mick growled.
“If it’s because you had to pick me up, then I’ll pay for the gas and this will be the last time. I’m sorry. I should’ve lined up a rental car.” The money for said rental wasn’t in his budget, but putting his career on hiatus wasn’t supposed to have happened, either.
“Why did you ignore her for so long?” Mick asked. His words came out clipped. “You haven’t been home in forever. She needed you.”
“I had a career,” he said. “But I called my grandmother every Friday at one in the afternoon. She never said things were this bad.” She’d been good at hiding the truth, though. He’d learned from her to hide how he truly felt and play to the audience.
“No way.”
“I did. We talked a week ago.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “For your information, she told me to leave Cedarwood and chase my dreams. She encouraged me.”
“Liar. She’s needed help. The farm doesn’t run itself,” Mick snapped.
“She’s down to four calves and forty acres. The kids from the vocational school take care of the land and animals for credit.” He’d helped set up the deal.
“She’s lonely.”
Oh, so Mr. Mick Ryan, Mr. Uppity Tight Pants, knew about the kids helping and he still had the balls to get pissed? “Apparently, she’s had you.” He tamped down his irritation. He’d hide his feelings any other time, but Mick seemed to draw him out. “Mick, you have your life. I had mine. My grandmother got out a lot. She loved going to her bridge club, bingo and her book club. I’m sorry I wasn’t there as she battled cancer. I’ve been down this road twice already with my parents. I dropped the ball and you can hate me all you want. I get it. But don’t jump on my ass because you don’t like the way I’ve lived my life.”
“Fine.” Mick growled again.
Evan folded his arms. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his first day in Cedarwood. He stole glances at Mick. Mick had aged well. Despite the early hour, Mick looked put together. He smelled good, too. Why
