"Wha-?" I began.

  Mick kicked at a patch of grass with his leather toe, seeming to mull something over before lifting confident eyes to me. There was something nestled inside the blue orbs that said trouble. And somehow I knew instinctively that Mick had just made a decision that hadn't been exactly planned, hadn't been approved. He was about to shoot from the hip.

  "Hell, Sugar, I guess I'll just go ahead and say it," he said, tearing his cowboy hat from his head and placing it on his chest, even waiting a few heartbeats before continuing. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I left. I'm sorry for my surprise visit today. I should've called and told you beforehand-" Yes, you should've told me about this. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to laugh or cry. "-but it was very last minute. And I know I should've told you about the cameras," he continued motioning to the one that was currently pointed directly at us…at me. "This last year has been a whirlwind." Year?!? I'd barely known him for a few months, but he was speaking well beyond that. "But it's been the best year of my life and I can't think of any other way to spend the rest of my life, than with you."

  He flung his hat to the side, Griff doing a splendid job of playing catcher - it was either that or let it hit him square in the face - before dropping down to one knee.

  "Mick!" Mitchell shouted.

  "Somebody shut that guy up," one of the crew yelled.

  "W-what are you s-saying?" I questioned, stuttering through most of it. "What the hell are you doing on the ground, Mick?" I said, this time sounding a tad more confident.

  He grinned his best awe-shucks grin, reaching into his pocket to fish out a black velvet box. "Well, Sugar," -I'd like to pour sugar down your throat- "I'm trying to propose, but I'm not doing a very good job of it am I?"

  My mouth flopped open like a fish on a bank, gasping for air. This couldn't really be happening to me. This was not my life.

  "Well, are you gonna open it?" he questioned, his eyes blinking up at me.

  I looked down at my hands, realizing that I now cradled the box in my palm. Touching the velvet as if to test the reality of the situation, I flipped the lid open, certain that I'd wake up from this nightmare as soon as I did. I didn't. Instead, I pulled the diamond towards my face, my eyes crossing as I stared down at the gem that twinkled back up at me.

  "It's just a little something small that I picked up last week…"

  There was absolutely nothing small about the princess cut gem that was staring me dead in the face. My mouth gaped open even further. In my mind, I willed myself to speak but nothing came out except a high-pitched squeak that I wasn't certain anyone heard.

  "Do you like it? Here, put it on," Mick said, his words a blur of sounds coming at me with the velocity of a tornado. He grabbed the box from my frozen hands, extracting the ring from inside and pawing at my hand. He found the ring finger on my left hand with little hesitation, sliding the monstrosity onto it with a sort of finality that left my knees quaking, like I didn't have a choice in the matter. I produced another squeak, this time managing to choke on it.

  "God, it looks fantastic on you-"

  I tried using my voice again, even reaching up to shake my vocal chords with my ringless hand. "I-"

  "You're speechless. I know. But isn't this great?" he questioned, his hands encircling both of my shoulders, shaking me eagerly.

  "Mick," I mumbled, my right hand coming up to touch the ring that weighed the other down.

  "I think that's a yes folks," Mick said laughing, he pulled me into his chest. "The woman's so happy and surprised, she's plum speechless." I could hear his laughter through his chest as my ear stayed firmly against it, the sound of it like a knife to the heart with each chuckle.

  Now what was I going to do?

  "That's a wrap folks," Mitchell yelled, cutting into my view.

  I pushed off of Mick with every intention of making both he and Mitchell my first murder victims. Until I saw Griff and the look on his face. The look of disappointment and frustration and anger…of hatred. That look was enough to stop me dead in my tracks, frozen to the ground in which I stood, uncertain of what to do next.

  He had to know that this was one of Mick's irrational decisions that I knew nothing about. He had to know that I didn't agree with what had happened, what the world was about to believe. I shot him a look of bewilderment, trying to convey what I felt inside. Surely he would see and understand.

  Griff's eyes finally connected with mine, a look of indifference etched onto his angry face. I moved my mouth to call out to him, but he was already headed in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Twelve

  "What were you thinking?" Griff questioned, his hands closing down hard over the back of one of the kitchen table chairs. He pressed down so hard the joints on his fingers turned a pale white. He looked about half a second away from pouncing.

  My eyes darted around the table looking at everyone there, the whole gang - my alleged, soon to be family...and Mitchell. My heart dipped low, which was saying something since it already felt like it was sitting at my feet.

  "I wasn't. You know, I acted out of impulse," Mick answered shrugging, like what had happened an hour earlier was nothing more complicated than two people head over heels in love getting married.

  The problem was, we were neither of those things. I was not in love with him, nor would I ever be, and I most certainly didn't plan on marrying him. Even worse, I was fairly certain that I was no longer in the falling part of love with his brother, but that I had already fallen onto the other side. Could my life be any more screwed up?

  I had been silent since the proposal, too numb to even process what had happened. My career had gone from heavily tarnished to shattered in the matter of an afternoon and here Mick sat shrugging it off as something he'd done for kicks.

  "That's all you have to say?" I questioned, surprised at the strength of my own voice. Ignoring the screech of protest that the chair made when I stood and it slid across the hardwood beneath me, I slapped my hands palms-down onto the table. "That's IT?"

  "Griff," Sutter said, nodding her head in my direction. "You mind taking Kennedy outside while I speak to our brother?"

  "Why not let her kill him? I sure as hell want to," he fumed, his eyes deadly.

  "Griff-" Sutter warned.

  "Kennedy," he muttered, grabbing for my arm. His fingers slid around my elbow with much more tenderness than I anticipated, my heart softening enough around the edges to deter me from another murderous thought.

  "So, I guess this means the date's off?" Mick called after my retreating form.

  I ignored him, marching heatedly outside, surprisingly glad to be out of the house and into fresh air. Griff eyed me as if he expected an explanation. "Griff, I don't want to talk right now, okay? Can we just walk…You and me? Can you just do that for me?" I questioned softly, too afraid to apologize but terrified to be alone.

  As I descended the steps, the sound of his boots marching across the front porch as they worked to catch up with me served as the affirmative answer that I had been hoping for.

  *****

  We didn't return until well past dawn, ascending the steps slowly and with a hell of a lot of reluctance. I didn't think that my heart was quite ready to face everything yet - or everyone - but I put one shaky foot in front of the other anyway.

  The show must go on, right?

  My eyes landed on a guitar propped up against a wall beside Mick, the porch light illuminating the smooth wood. I ignored the confused-slash-angry face that Mick threw in our direction from his seated position in one of the weathered rocking chairs, instead nodding towards the instrument.

  "Nice Martin."

  "Oh, do you play?" Hannah questioned, her voice bubbling with excitement.

  Not having seen her or Sutter seated in the porch swing, I looked to them now. I zoned in on Hannah ready to respond before Griff cut in. "She does," he confirmed, his backside taking up residence against the porch railing.

  "She does?" Mick questioned, his forehead wrinkling.

  "You'd best learn a thing or two about your fiancé," Griff snapped, leaning his upper half towards Mick. "And before the big day, try and work on your maturity. Married men don't do rash things."

  "I don't plan on getting married."

  "Then why the hell did you propose to her in front of the media?" His face now hung dangerously close to Mick's, the disgust that he had for his younger sibling seeping into every word.

  "I told you, impulse-"

  "You have got to be kidding me!" I spat, Griff's hand reaching out to stop me from doing anything I'd regret later.

  "Your impulses may have screwed up her career," Griff informed him, a thumb hitching violently in my direction.

  Sutter clapped her hand over Hannah's ears. Hannah giggled, informing us all that Griff had just said a dirty word.

  "What career?" Mick's nose scrunched up to match his forehead. He rocked his chair backwards, catching it with the heels of his boots, his body halting at an incline.

  "You just don't get it, do you?" Griff snorted condescendingly, crossing frustrated arms over his chest. "Here you are, proposing to someone you don't even know, with little regard to her or what her feelings were towards the situation. You can't just go around messing with people's lives because it amuses you," Griff continued, not pulling any punches.

  "Why the fuck do you care?" Mick questioned, his eyes narrowing as he worked to defend himself.

  "Boys!" Sutter demanded, earning both of their attention. "Remember Hannah," she instructed, nodding down to the earmuffed child.

  Griff stared his brother down, his jawline and the tightness of it enhancing his well-defined face. "Because I'm sick to death of you doing whatever you want with everyone else left to clean up your messes."

  He marched pointedly towards the door, heading inside and leaving us all to look after him. I flinched as the door banged shut, trying to ascertain everything that he'd just said.

  "He should be on medication," Mick noted, turning towards his sister.

  "Mick," she warned.

  "What?" He shrugged his shoulders in response to the heated look that she shot him. "Well it's the truth," he added.

  "A lot of what he said was true," she informed him, but smiled despite the seriousness of the statement.

  He scowled over at her. "Why do you always take his side, Sutter?"

  She stood, nudging Hannah before helping her off of the swing. She walked past me, ushering Hannah inside, pausing as she approached Mick. "Only when he's right, Mick," she answered softly. She leaned forward, planting a kiss onto his forehead, rumpling his short hair as a Mother would her child. "Love you," she added before heading inside.

  "I guess now's probably as good a time as ever to apologize to you," he said, his hand shifting nervously across his lap before settling onto the arms of the chair. "I feel like I'm doing that a lot around you."

  I lifted my mouth into a half-hearted smile. It was the only thing that I could do besides strangling him. I was too tired to speak so I headed towards the front door instead.

  "Kennedy," he all but whispered, my foot hesitating to take its next step. "If you want to talk about it-"

  "I don't," I said, cutting him off because it was true. Nothing inside me wanted to accept his apology or talk to him about the kind of disarray that he'd just created for me.

  He nodded, a little dejected and at a loss for words. Gone was the polished charm that he had shown in front of the cameras, the confident person who'd met me in the hallway after the concert and persuaded me to join him for a nightcap. There seemed to be two sides to Mick Callahan, the performer and the brother, and I couldn't quite decide if I liked either.

  "I'd like to hear you play sometime," he said as he motioned towards the previously referenced guitar.

  He sounded deflated and sincere. My compassion kicked in feeling a teeny-tiny, very miniscule bit sorry for him. "Maybe," I offered because it was the best that I could do.

  I grabbed for the door handle.

  "Kennedy."

  I sighed, frustrated. The tiny inkling of compassion that I'd had for him seconds ago disappearing. "Yes, Mick?" I questioned, trying desperately to hide my agitation.

  "You don’t…like him…do you?"

  "Who?" I questioned, my mouth robbing itself of saliva because I had a gut feeling of what was coming next.

  "Griff."

  I looked over at him. Really looked at him and realized the significance of my response. No, his heart wouldn't shatter if I admitted my feelings for Griff, but it'd crush his pride and, for a man like Mick, that would mean crushing something worse than his heart, it'd mean crushing his soul.

  "Get some sleep, Mick," I said, lacking the ability to answer either way.

  *****

  We didn't stray too far from the house the next day for fear of the onslaught that we'd receive. I was now a little more than famous, like it or not. My face had been plastered onto every TV station in the Western Hemisphere shortly after CMT had pieced together the footage. They hadn't even tried touching up my face. Or course, it was sort of hard to touch up a speechless, on the verge of crying, mad woman with thoughts of murder lusting around in her head.

  The close-ups of my face would no doubt make it to my sister and if she hadn't already booked her flight to The States, then she was about to. She was going to shit…Kind of like I was shitting.

  "What're you doing out here by yourself?" Sutter questioned, pulling bags from the back of Griff's truck. She handed a few to Hannah, instructing her to take them to the house. She put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, the other one resting on her hip. "Did the boys do something that I should handle?"

  Griff shot out of the house and began helping without instruction, reaching over the side to pull more bags from the truck bed. I tried peeling my eyes away from Griff's taught muscles underneath the tight plaid, but couldn't.

  "No, we didn't," he grumbled bitterly. "Well, nothing besides ruining her career." He took his load into the house without another word.

  She shook her head as she approached. "Griff's moody by nature, but he seems extra moody as of late. Think there's anything to it?" she questioned.

  I caught the innuendo but was smart enough not to bite. "I dunno," I said shrugging. Feigning nonchalance was clearly not something that I was good at.

  "I'm not opposed to setting them straight if I need to," she said, switching subjects, her features softening.

  I had dodged a bullet, but not one that I was entirely sure that she hadn't allowed me to.

  "The day is still early," I joked, feeling an attachment towards her tap me on the shoulder unexpectedly. "Mind if I keep your offer in my back pocket? Just in case?"

  "Of course not," she said, her lips curving into an all-out smile. "Now, do you mind getting the door? These bags are heavy and this sun is hot as hell."

  "Here, let me get some." I rushed to relieve one of her hands of the bags, pulling the door open as I kicked it out with my foot. I made my way to the kitchen, setting the bags onto the floor. When I began to stand upright, I realized I was face-to-face with Griff.

  "Don't do this, Griff," I mumbled, feeling the distance between us, the emotional divide that Mick's false proposal had placed on something that was an undefined relationship at best.

  "What?" he whispered softly, cognizant of the fact that we were not alone.

  "Shut me out," I pled.

  "Good morning everyone," Mick called out, a little too happily for a superstar who'd just crushed a couple of million hearts with our false engagement. "Where's the coffee?" he questioned, rounding the corner, his lips falling into a frown after seeing the empty pot.

  "I was just thinking about making a pot," Griff said. "Would you like some coffee too? Or do you just prefer drinking water straight from the tap?" he questioned, his eyes diving down to my breasts. A chill splintered down my spine, my body shaking in response as remnant memories of hands and one very hungry mouth came to mind.

  "Cold?" Mick questioned, completely oblivious.

  Griff's mouth hitched into a roguish smile, making my heart hitch in the same direction.

  "A little," I lied. It couldn't have been farther from the truth because my internal temperature had kicked up to a lethal level.

  "Need a jacket?" Griff questioned, his smile never wavering.

  I narrowed my eyes towards him. "No, but thank you. I'm fine, really." I had to focus really hard to keep the stutter at bay. God, I wanted him.

  "Are you?"

  "She said she was," Mick cut in, snatching open the cabinet above the coffee pot. He produced the coffee container and began making the coffee himself. "Quit being all creepy and cryptic, Griff."

  "Both of you, cut it," Sutter chimed in. "We've got a lot of things to do if we're going to get out to the lake before noon."

  Both men groaned.

  "Is that what this is all about?" Mick questioned, his eyes hinting at his dislike.

  "Mick, it's tradition. We always spend a day on the lake while you're in town if both time and weather allows it," Sutter explained.

  "Don't you think it's a little counterproductive considering recent events," Griff pointed out.

  "No, I don't," Sutter disagreed. "In fact, I think we could all use a little bit of fun in the sun. Maybe relax a little."

  "Okay," Griff said shrugging. "But it might be a good idea for Fiance' to take her ring off. Wouldn't want that thing sinking to the bottom."

  The word fiancé had just been used as a proper noun. This was getting deep. I needed to have an actual conversation with Griff before getting too far away from the event. I needed to reassure him that what had happened was temporary, that I was going to fix it any way that I could.