Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
The neighborly thing, the southern thing to do, would be to go over there and introduce myself. Maybe offer some muscle once in a while and hope they would do the same for me.
Another time, maybe. I needed, no, I wanted to get the studio built as soon as possible. It would give me something to do, and it would keep me out of trouble until Brody reached out to say I could make trouble again, and do it publicly. I got up and dumped my lukewarm coffee down the sink, I then went about my daily ritual of discreetly checking the internet to see if the women of the world still hated me, and—yep—they did. Instead of stewing over it and cursing the world for my bad luck, I headed outside, determined to scope out the perfect studio space.
The building closest to the main house would be ideal for convenience, but I could put in a small unpaved path if one of the other buildings proved better suited. It was so quiet that I could hear mosquitoes whizzing by my ears, birds chirping in the distance, even the crunch of overgrown foliage under my boots.
It was too quiet.
But I heard a vehicle in the distance, close enough that it was either a visitor for me, or someone at the York Farm was out and about.
My phone beeped with a message from Roman. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m at home. Grounded.”
That’s exactly what it felt like. I was back to being fourteen and forced to sit in my room and do nothing, not one damn thing, because I’d gotten caught doing something stupid. Some things don’t change, I thought and smiled to myself.
“We’re here,” was the next message that came through.
I made my way back to the front of the main house, an act that took even longer than walking the property of my Nashville mansion. Both of my brothers stood on the front porch looking around at the property, probably wondering what in the hell I was thinking.
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” Not that I wasn’t happy to see them, but I hadn’t had any visitors in weeks. “Didn’t even know you were in town,” I told Roman.
Ryan shrugged and ran a hand through his long blond hair with a sheepish smile. “Pippa thought you might be going nuts out here by yourself and made me come.”
“Gee, thanks man.” I snorted and punched his shoulder.
“I would’ve come out if you had asked, but you’re not exactly the begging type.” He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t need a group to amuse myself, at least that’s what I told myself, but I had been going a little stir-crazy out here on my own.
Roman shrugged and clapped me on the back with a playful smile as he gestured to the land before us. “I just wanted to lay eyes on the old hovel, see what kind of dumbass trouble you got yourself into now.”
“It’s hardly a hovel,” I told him and shoved my elbow into his side. “The place just needs some tender loving care, which I plan to give it. With the help of a landscaper and a contractor.” Even as I said the words, a vision of what the place would look like came to me.
“A contractor?” Ryan’s arched brows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “For what exactly?”
I nodded for them to follow me around to the back of the house. “Afraid I’m going to open up a place to rival Dark Horse?”
“Hell no,” he growled. “Nina is happy where she is, so anyone you could get would be a poor imitation.”
I rolled my eyes. Nina was a damn fine chef and woman, but I had no desire to run a restaurant. “I’m going to turn one of the buildings into a studio, produce more tracks, maybe some albums for other artists. What do you think?” My brothers and I were close, very close, but we weren’t the touchy feely sort to talk about our feelings until our voices went hoarse.
Ryan grinned. “Yeah? That’s a good idea. Plus, the main house is big enough if you want to put the artists up yourself.”
I hadn’t thought about that, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “Like those old artist communes back in the day,” I mused, suddenly liking the idea more and more.
Roman snorted. “Of course you would decide to do this after my first album is done and on the shelves. But it’s a good idea, a good way to keep busy until your current shit storm blows over.”
“Don’t remind me,” I grunted. “One little mistake and I’m being tarred and feathered.” I still couldn’t believe it, and I was pissed off. But I promised Brody I would be smart and that I would listen. “Anyway…” I said in search of a change of topic and coming up empty.