Her curious blue eyes peered up at me. "Didya write some songs last night?"
"No, I didn't."
Her tiny brows furrowed. "Daddy said that's what you came up here for, and that's why you couldn't play with us."
Inwardly, I groaned. I mean, Jesus, could it get any worse than catching shit for my writer's block from a four-year-old? "It was."
Jax leaned over to whisper rather loudly in Jules's ear. "Shh, Daddy said not to talk about that in front of Gabe, remember?"
Jules clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh no, I forgot."
I glanced past the twins to eyeball Jake, who had just walked up on the porch balancing a cooler brimming with fish on his shoulder. "I see my writer's block was a matter of discussion among you guys," I said tersely.
He winced as he set the cooler down. "Sorry. I was only trying to help."
Deep down, I knew he was. The man had not only offered up his guesthouse for me, he'd also shuffled his kids away for a night. Still, in spite of being a celebrity, I was a private person. I didn't like anyone knowing my business. It was bad enough that Eli, Abby, and Jake had to know about my writing issues, but now the twins did as well.
"I'm sowwy I mentioned you can't write songs," Jules whispered.
Inwardly, I was unraveling, but I couldn't let Jules see that. I couldn't have her thinking less of me. I basked in the fact that she thought I was ten feet tall. "Thanks, Julesy-pie."
Swallowing hard, I fought the anxiety that slithered its away up my body. It was the same kind of feeling I got when enveloped by a crowd of fans. I could see now that trying to escape to Jake's farm was just a bust. "I think I'm going to head back to Atlanta."
Jules tightened her grip around my neck. "Don't leave yet, Uncle Gabe. I haven't gotten to play my drum set for you yet."
In true annoying uncle form, Eli and I had gone in together to get a mini drum set for Jax and Jules for their birthday. After two seconds of listening to them bang loudly, Jake had threatened to kick our asses for getting them such a gift. While we'd had a good laugh, Eli and I really did have good intentions. It was never too early to get the twins started on the musical path. Considering how talented both their parents were, it was a given that they would be as well.
"I really want to hear you play, Julesy-Poo, but I've got to write these songs. If I don't, your mama and Uncle Eli and I won't have anything to put on the album."
Jules's lips turned down in a pout. To show how I'd made her sad, she crawled out of my lap and went over to her mother. "Maybe going home isn't such a good idea," Abby said.
"It's not like I'm getting anything done here."
"You could head south to Savannah and stay at Rhys and Allison's house, or head over to their condo on Tybee Island. I know they wouldn't mind."
Rhys McGowan was the bassist for Runaway Train. He'd grown up in Savannah, and now he owned a house in the historic district as well as a condo on Tybee Island. After a long engagement, he'd just married Jake's little sister, Allison, a few months ago. They were spending some of Runaway Train's downtime in between album recording and touring by heading over to Scotland, where Rhys's grandparents were from.
"That's a nice idea, little sis, but I'm not a fan of crowds at the moment."
"I've got a better idea," Jake said.
With a questioning smirk, I asked, "And what's that?"
"Heads up." Before I could question what the hell he was talking about, he tossed me his keys. "Better than wasting all that time on the road to Savannah, take my Jeep and go off-roading in the mountains. It's still packed with camping gear and food. Then you won't have to worry about running into anybody."
"Except some toothless hillbilly playing the banjo who might think you have a purty mouth," Eli joked.
Jake laughed. "For your information, there are very few Deliverance-esque people in the mountains."
"For Gabe's sake, I hope you're right. I'm not sure I want to see the type of songs he might write after being tied up and told to squeal like a pig."
"You're impossible," I muttered as I ran my fingers over the key fob. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe I needed to get off by myself, just me and my notebook with no distractions whatsoever, not even my family. "You're sure you're okay with me running off with your Jeep?"
"I think I'll be fine. You've seen my garage-I think I've got enough vehicles to pick from."
I laughed. One building on Jake's property was a tricked-out garage where he had several cars and trucks, and then there was also the Volvo SUV and the Escalade he and Abby used to get the twins around. After grabbing my notebook and pen, I popped out of my chair. "I guess I'll see you guys later."
"Make sure you text us and let us know you're okay," Abby said.
"As long as I have a signal, I will."
She frowned at me. "Don't make me worry about you, Gabe."
I smiled. "I'll try hard not to." I wrapped one of my arms around her. "Thanks for having me last night and for trying to help."
"Any time," Abby murmured.
Eli rose out of his chair to come over to us. "I hope you break through, brother."
"So do I."
"Just remember what an amazing talent you have."
I grinned. "I think that's one of the nicest and most serious things you've ever said to me."
With a laugh, Eli replied, "I know. I shock myself sometimes."
After hugging the twins and giving Jake one of those typical bro hugs, I headed off the porch and to Jake's vehicle. I'd need to make a quick pit stop at the barn to grab my things, and then I'd be off. To where, I had no idea. The only thing that mattered was if I would find the words when I got there.
"Fuck!" I shouted as I banged my fist against the hood of the Jeep. The acrid smell of burning rubber still hung in the air and stung my nostrils, the aftermath of me stomping on the accelerator in an attempt to free the Jeep from being imprisoned in mud. While the trip up 515 into the North Georgia mountains had been smooth sailing, I now found myself in a brand new hell: thoroughly and completely stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Just like in the movies, everything had been going great until I made one wrong turn. When the gravel road turned into a stream, I figured I could ford it. I was in a four-wheel drive Jeep for fuck's sake. Yeah … it so hadn't worked out like I'd planned. Not only were the back wheels encased in the sloshy Georgia clay, I was standing in water up to my knees.
With a growl, I dug my phone out of my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I thanked God that somehow I still had cell service. "Siri, what's the nearest wrecker service near me?" I demanded.
"Hart and Daughter Wrecker Service is ten miles away."
"Then Hart and Daughter it is." After I dialed the number, it rang three times before a perky sounding woman answered it.
"Hello, Hart and Daughter. How may I help you?"
"Uh, yeah, my name's Gabe, and I seem to have gotten my Jeep stuck while doing some off-roading. Can you guys come get me out?"
"Certainly, sir. I'll just need your location."
"Somewhere in backwoods bumblefuck," I grumbled.
The woman had the audacity to laugh at me. "You must be from the city."
"If I said I am, would that make a difference?"
"It's just most people who are from around here know the road names, or at least they know points of interest close by."
"Okay, fine. I turned off Briarwood Road then followed it until it turned into gravel and then dirt. A path to the right looked good so I took it. That's when it all turned to shit."
After hearing scribbling in the background, the woman said, "Got it. I think someone will be able to find you with those descriptions. Just let me get some information. What's your name?"
"Gabe Renard."
There was a pause on the line. "Did you say Renard?"
"I did."
The woman giggled. "You wouldn't happen to be the Gabe Renard of Jacob's Ladder, would you?"
At that moment, I had two choices. I could tell her no and keep some semblance of anonymity, or I could say yes and hopefully parlay my celebrity status into getting faster service. I decided to go with option B. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I am."
A high-pitched shriek pierced my eardrum, and the shock almost caused me to fumble my phone. When I brought it back to my ear, I heard, "OMG, OMG, OMG, OH MY GOD! I can't believe it! We never have any celebrities around here. Then, the first time we have one, it's one I absolutely love."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"It's funny because I thought your voice sounded familiar."
"I take it you're a fan of my band."
Her response came in the form of another high-pitched shriek. "Oh my God, YES, I'm a fan. I've been to each and every one of your concerts in Atlanta. I even went to one in Chattanooga."