Nashville Rebel

Three

Eager to see Sophie again and share the results of his doctor’s visit, Tommy drove to her house. Only three days had passed since they’d made a decision about the baby business, but if next week was going to be a prime time to conceive, he wanted to be ready.

He drove onto her ranch and parked, then hopped out of his truck and went into the barn. He’d texted her earlier, and she’d told him that was where she would be.

She was hard at work, mucking out a stall, and didn’t seem to notice he’d arrived. He stepped back to admire her, with her dirt-smudged jeans and her hair coiled into a messy bun.

“Need some help?” he asked, announcing his presence. He couldn’t stand here all day like a teenager with his heart pounding.

She spun around. “Oh, my goodness, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s okay. I’m about done anyway.” She finished the job and patted the mare in the stall.

After she put away the rake, she dusted her hands on her pants. Tommy always thought that she was a fine little cowgirl. When they were kids, she had the gumption to keep up with him, and that was saying a lot. He used to drag her along on his reckless escapades. And now, as adults, they were going to do the most reckless thing of all and make a baby.

She drank water from a canteen and asked, “So what’s up? What important news do you have to tell me?”

“I saw my doctor, and my sperm count is great.” Then in an old codger’s voice, he jokingly added, “Those young whippersnappers on that donor site got nothing on me.”

She rewarded him with a laugh. “Glad to hear it.”

“So was I.” He quit goofing around and glanced at a sensual line of sweat trailing from her neck and down into the opening of her blouse. The top two buttons were undone.

She gestured for them to go outside, as if she needed a change of scenery. He walked out beside her and waited a beat before he asked, “Did you call your doctor about what’s advisable? About how often we should...”

“Yes, I called him.” She hesitated before she added, “He recommends frequent encounters, especially during my ovulation window.”

He moved closer and touched her cheek, marveling at how soft her skin was. “You’re allowed to let down your guard and enjoy it, Sophie.”

“I know.” She met his gaze, and they stared at each other.

He lowered his hand. Suddenly he felt as overwhelmed as she looked. There was another subject he wanted to discuss with her.

They headed for a shade tree. The sun was already bright in the sky. She drank more of her water, and he braced his back against the trunk, feeling the rough bark through his shirt.

Finally he said, “There’s something else I spoke to my doctor about.”

“What is it?” She sounded concerned. “What’s going on? Do you have a health issue?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. But I’ve made a decision. After you have the baby and we know everything is all right, I’m going to get a vasectomy.” He tried not to wince. The procedure itself gave him the willies, but the end result was important enough for him to follow through.

Her soulful brown eyes went big and wide. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m never going to be a donor again, and I don’t want to get caught up in another baby scare like I did with Kara, or accidentally make someone pregnant for real. I figured this way, there will only ever be one child in the world with my genes, and that kid will belong to you.”

“I don’t know what to say about that, Tommy.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know that’s what I’ve got planned. I also want you to know that I’m going to set up a trust for the baby, for when it’s older.”

She studied him in a way that made him feel emotionally exposed. Then she said, “That isn’t necessary.”

He shrugged, using humor as his shield. “With a donor as rich and ornery as me, the kid should get something out of it.”

“You’re not ornery.” She spoke quietly, her voice as whispery as the breeze that had just kicked up.

“Maybe not, but I’ve got plenty of dough. And I want to make your son’s or daughter’s life easier.”

“Thank you.” She fussed with her hair, pressing some of the pins protruding from her messy bun back into place. “That’s really nice of you.”

He imagined her sprawled out on his bed and tangled up in his sheets, her long dark locks tumbling over a pillow. By now, the tiny trail of sweat between her breasts was making her cleavage glow. He looked away; he had to get control of himself. He knew he had to wait but she was making him hot and breathless.

“I’m going to Brandon’s office this afternoon to get his legal input.” He’d already briefed his brother over the phone, but they were going to finish their discussion in person. “Do you want to go with me?”

“I can’t. I’m meeting with Barbara today.”

Right, he thought—to sort out the details of her new job. “Okay, then. We’ll talk later, and I’ll let you know what Brandon says.” He had a pretty good idea of how her meeting was going to go. He’d already instructed Barbara to create a position for Sophie, giving her whatever she wanted. And Barbara, naturally, was delighted to do it.

She glanced toward her house. “I better go. I have to shower.”

He merely nodded, and as she bade him goodbye, he envisioned her slick and sudsy and wet. He had to keep these fantasies about her in check until it was time. But on and off he’d been having them for years. In some form or another, Sophie was always on his mind.

Brandon’s office was in the hub of Nashville, with a colorful view of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum.

The location served as a reminder of who they were, Tommy thought, and how this city impacted them. Their daddy was featured in one of the museum’s galleries. Tommy was, too, with artifacts from his most successful tours. As for Brandon, he was an entertainment lawyer, representing the Talbots and other country heavy hitters. He was also an elected trustee at the museum. But Brandon had always been the high-class type, well-known and well-respected in Nashville society.

Tommy and Brandon had grown up in the same rich, privileged, crazy-ass house, but they were nothing alike. Still, they were as close as two completely opposite siblings could be. And lately, they’d banded together, helping their dad with his now three-year sobriety. They also supported their mom, a former supermodel, in her beauty-business endeavors, making investments and buying stock in her company. Mom had rebranded herself, and was starring in her own infomercials, selling cosmetics and skin-care products.

When Tommy first explained the donor situation over the phone, Brandon had reacted in a perfectly professional way. No personal opinions, no judgments. Even now, he was as cool as a corporate cucumber. He looked the part, too, in an impeccable gray suit, his short black hair slicked straight back, his chiseled jaw clean-shaven. He’d inherited regal qualities from their mother’s side. Tommy didn’t have any of that.

“I’d be glad to represent both you and Sophie,” Brandon was saying. “I can draw up what’s called a known-donor contract, clarifying the details you agreed upon. But first I’m going to consult with a colleague of mine who’s versed in this area of law. I want to be sure there aren’t any unforeseen events that we should include in the contract, things you and Sophie might’ve not considered.”

“Whatever you need to do.” He trusted his brother to get it done right. They were two years apart, with Brandon being older and obviously wiser. Besides, Tommy didn’t like to fuss with the business end of things.

The wiser one squinted. “I hate to bring this up, but has Sophie thought about who she would name as the child’s guardian in case she becomes incapacitated or dies? Family members are usually preferred, but Sophie doesn’t have any family. And since you’ll be signing away your rights, you wouldn’t have any legal claim on the minor. Not unless you petitioned the courts, and with you not wanting to have a direct role as the father, I don’t see you as doing that.”

Tommy’s gut tensed. The kid hadn’t even been conceived yet, and now they were discussing the possibility of the child becoming an orphan. When he thought about how Sophie’s mom had died, the tension inside him worsened. “I have no idea who she would name as guardian, but I’ll bring it to her attention. Then she can consult with you about it.”

Brandon looked him square in the eye. “Maybe she can appoint someone in our family. Mom would probably be willing to do it.”

“Yeah, she probably would.” Their mother was hoping for grandkids someday, and the likelihood was pretty damn close to nil if she had to rely on her sons. Brandon wasn’t any more settled than Tommy in that regard. “Mom and Dad probably aren’t going to like this donor decision of mine.” He’d decided to wait to tell them until he and Sophie worked out the legal details, and now there was the guardian issue she would need to consider, too.

“No, I don’t suspect they’ll like the idea of you being a donor. Knowing Mom, she’ll accept it easier than Dad will. She tends to be more pliable than he is. But it’s your life, not theirs.”

“Yeah, and considering the lives they’ve led, they don’t have a whole lot of room to talk.” Their parents used to have an agreement where their dad had been allowed to sleep with other women. Their mother’s only stipulation was that he wouldn’t father children with anyone except her, and he’d broken that vow when he’d sired Matt. “Do you think Mom was really okay with Dad screwing around like he did? Or do you think she just accepted it as part of what came with the territory?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never asked her about it. But she’ll be telling her side of the story in the biography, so it’s all going to become public, anyway. From my understanding, Matt’s mom has already been interviewed. Her story will be included, as well.”

“Well, I think our mom is a darned fine person for forgiving Dad and choosing to be friends with him again. It’s also nice of her to want to meet Matt and embrace him.”

Brandon nodded. “It’s going to be a heck of a get-together, all of us meeting up like that.”

Tommy scrubbed his hand over his face. “Remember when Mom first told us that Dad had another son out there, and how we wondered about him?” They’d been teenagers at the time. Tommy had just turned sixteen and Brandon had been a diligent eighteen-year-old, the senior class president of the private academy he’d attended. Tommy had chosen to go to public school, where Sophie and the rest of his friends were. “I never hated Matt for existing, but I hated Dad for hurting Mom.”

“I know how deeply it affected you. But everything about Dad has always been harder on you. You look more like him than I do. You’re a performer like he is. You’ve had to fight your way out from under his shadow, even when we were young.”

“It helps that I have a brother who understands.” Tommy smiled. “And they say lawyers are heartless sharks.”

Brandon flashed a lethal grin. “I have my moments.”

No doubt he did. But all Tommy saw was the good in him. “You always supported me, even when I got into trouble.”

His brother shrugged. “With the way you and Dad used to fight, I knew you needed someone on your side.”

“Those fights aren’t over yet. We had a raging argument not too long ago about Kara. He read me the riot act, even after I told him the baby wasn’t mine.”

“Did you call him on the carpet about Matt? About having a grown son he barely knows?”

Tommy blew out a sigh. “You bet I did. But he just babbled on about how much he’s changed and how focused he is on being a dad now. For someone who’s trying to atone for his mistakes and be a better parent, he doesn’t have a clue how to go about it.”

Brandon lifted a glass paperweight off his desk, looked at it and set it back down. “He’s been sending me gifts. For all the birthdays and Christmases he missed back in the day.” He glanced up. “Have you been getting presents from him, too?”

Tommy nodded. Along with a slew of other things, he’d received the same paperweight, containing a sentimental quote inside. “I know his heart is in the right place, but there’s only so much of his interference I can stand. Even when I try not to argue with him, I still lose my temper.”

“Do you want me to approach him about you and Sophie so this doesn’t turn into a battle?”

As tempting as the offer was, Tommy declined. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do my dirty work for me.”

“Are you sure? I’m good at smoothing things over.”

“Thanks, but I’ll handle it.” Tommy knew that he was doing the right thing by being Sophie’s donor, and no one, not even his dad, was going to take that away from him.

Sophie cringed. Tommy and his father were snapping at each other, deep in the throes of a heated argument. Now she wished that she wouldn’t have accompanied him to Kirby’s house. Mostly she’d only gone with him so she could talk to his mother, Melinda, about being named as the guardian for her child.

But she hadn’t gotten a chance to do that, not with the power struggle taking place between the men. Kirby didn’t like their plan at all. He’d blown up the moment Tommy had told him.

Melinda seemed okay with the idea, or was at least being supportive, the way a parent should be. She’d tried to ease the tension earlier, but her efforts had been in vain. The whole thing was getting out of control, and Sophie didn’t know what to do, either.

The four of them were in the main parlor of the plantation-style mansion, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and opulence. The entire compound had been dubbed Kirbyville by the press. Even the family had begun to call it that. And what a strange bunch they were, Sophie thought. There was nothing conventional about the Talbots, not with a patriarch like Kirby at the helm.

His maid had already brought in a pitcher of iced tea and served everyone, creating a formal atmosphere that had gone awry. Kirby looked like his usual legendary self, with his graying beard and signature black clothes. He paced back and forth, rugged and demanding. Melinda was dressed in white, making an angelic contrast to her ex-husband. At fifty-eight, she was as beautiful as ever, with her golden blond hair and tall, slim figure. She sat across from Sophie on a matching antique settee, heaving ragged sighs.

And Tommy...

He stood near a window, bathed in natural light, his hair mussed from running his hands through it.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” his dad was saying to him. “It’s not right.”

“Oh, really?” Tommy countered. “This from the guy who had a secret kid with one of his mistresses?” He glanced at his mom for a second, as if to apologize for being so blunt in front of her. Then he glared at his dad again.

Kirby grabbed his tea and took a swig, as if he was gulping down the bourbon he used to drink. “I never planned on having a baby with Matt’s mother.”

“And that makes it okay? You lied to all of us, and later you abandoned him, as if he didn’t matter. You’re the last person who should be giving advice.”

“Quite the contrary. I’m exactly the guy who needs to do it. I’m telling you, boy, if you’re not going to be the child’s father, then you need to remove yourself from the equation.”

“Dammit, old man, I’m not a boy.” Tommy set his jaw. “So don’t treat me like one.”

Sophie gazed at Melinda, and they exchanged uncomfortable glances. Nothing was getting solved.

Kirby polished off his tea, put the glass down with a thud and narrowed his gaze at his son. “After the last talk we had, I was hoping you’d start becoming more responsible.”

“Responsible?” Tommy scoffed. “This isn’t a case of me accidentally making Sophie pregnant, like you did with Matt’s mom. We’re entering into a legal agreement, with Sophie choosing to be a single mother. The baby will grow up knowing me as the donor and a close family friend, and if there’s anything Sophie or her son or daughter needs, I’ll provide it. I’m already planning on setting up a trust fund for the kid.”

“And you think that’s going to help?” his dad replied in a harsh tone. “I established a trust for Matt that didn’t make a hill of beans. After he used it to get his ranch going, he paid back every dime, making damned sure I knew that he no longer needed or wanted my money. It’s taken years for him to forgive me. So why would you purposely give up the rights to your son or daughter, possibly creating problems like that, too?”

“I’m giving Sophie the baby she wants,” Tommy said, seething. “Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Because you’re too close to the situation, and you’re not thinking clearly.”

Tommy stormed over to his dad, his dusty Western boots echoing on the pristine wood floor. He stopped just inches from his father and growled, “You don’t know shit about what I’m thinking.”

Kirby forged on, his voice getting louder. “I know that you’re an adrenaline junkie who’s always looking for a fix. And once you come down off this latest high, you’re going to be left with a kid who isn’t yours.”

“It isn’t supposed to be mine!” Tommy yelled. “That’s the whole frigging point of me being the donor!”

Sophie wanted to tell both of them to shut up. She never used to argue with her dad, not even when she was a teenager. They’d always spoken kindly to each other. She would give anything to have him back. But it was different with Tommy and Kirby; they could fight about the weather. Granted, she understood that Kirby’s views were distorted because of the mistakes he’d made with Matt, but his criticism wasn’t helping. He needed to know when to quit. But Tommy needed to know when to cool off, too.

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