I knew the lyrics vaguely. I had an eclectic taste when it came to music, but it was more that I just knew when I liked a song rather than the artist specifically.
The lyrics spoke of longing and might-have-beens. Of moving on with more good memories than bad.
I curled up my knees and tucked them into my sweatshirt, my body angled toward his. No one else was around. The clang of horseshoes down the beach told me where the other couples had gone. Butch was curled up on the arm of the chair, snoozing.
When the song ended,
he glanced over at me. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”
I slid my hands under my cheek. “Full belly and a fire. I didn’t stand a chance.”
He placed his palm over the strings. “Did I bother you?”
“Didn’t you mean to?” I arched a brow at him.
“Maybe.” He chuckled lightly. “You’re just lucky I didn’t pull out a Joni Mitchell song with this campfire.”
I grinned. “What was that song you just played?”
He tucked his hair behind his ear. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “A buddy’s song.”
“You’re buddies with a famous dude?”
He shrugged.
Interesting that he didn’t want to share. Knowing a musician was pussy points for most guys I knew. “I’m pretty sure that was radio hit. I’m not sure who it is, but I know I’ve heard the song a time or eleven.”
He strummed the guitar lightly. He was quiet for a few moments, then sighed. “Flynn Sheppard.”
I whistled. “Country rocker hybrid guy? I saw one of his shows when I was in…” I had to go back a few years of memories. “Think I was in Georgia at the time. Some festival when I was still patient enough for that kind of deal.”
He laughed. “I hear that. We did a lot of those. Flynn is one of those guys who lives for the road. Goes a bit batshit when he doesn’t have a show lined up.”
“Sounds like you know him pretty well.”
He twirled the guitar and set it on the side of his chair. Butch took the opportunity to find her rightful place in his lap. Lucky automatically stroked her back, settling her on his flat belly. “I did the roadie thing for a few years. Flynn was good to me. Taught me how to play guitar, actually. There’s a ton of downtime on the road.”
“Wow. That had to be wild.”
“It was. A lot of fun for a few years. But the endless hours of boredom then the thankless hustle for the shows eventually killed it for me. I still keep in touch with Flynn though. Probably the closest thing to a dad I’ve ever had.” Butch inched up until she was sprawled across his chest. “Don’t tell him that though.”
His smile was sweet as he stared into the fire.
I couldn’t imagine not having my dad around. He’d been a hardass, but I’d never wondered if he loved me. My mom had split when I was little more than a toddler. She’d wanted a different life. One that didn’t include having car parts strewn all over her home.
She’d married up and I had a couple of half siblings I’d never cared to meet. Good thing, because she liked to forget we existed.
“So, when your brothers and pops come in, how long are they staying?”
“Good question.” I shifted to face the fire. Just like that, Jimmy intruded. I hadn’t even talked to Cohen about him. I was a damn coward. “My dad isn’t great about taking time off. None of my family is, really.”
“I’m shocked.”
I gave him a side-eyed glance. “Yeah, well, the Burns family are hard workers. Play hard too. Why I need a space for them, or they’ll destroy my house.”
“In boredom,” he quipped.
“Shut up.”