Книга - The Girl He Used To Love

The Girl He Used To Love
Amy Vastine


The past will always be between themHe swore he’d never return home. Then a flat tire lands Dean Presley back in Grass Lake, Tennessee, and he’s forced to confront the woman he left behind. Faith Stratton was once the love of his life. Now her gifted brother could be the rising Nashville star Dean needs for his struggling music label. But it means taking Sawyer away from the horse therapy farm that Faith’s so proud of. That won’t be easy, especially since those old feelings that started all the trouble… Well, let’s just say he can’t go back there, because he doesn’t want to relive the memories of the terrible accident that drove them apart.







The past will always be between them

He swore he’d never return home. Then a flat tire lands Dean Presley back in Grass Lake, Tennessee, and he’s forced to confront the woman he left behind. Faith Stratton was once the love of his life. Now her gifted brother could be the rising Nashville star Dean needs for his struggling music label. But it means taking Sawyer away from the horse therapy farm that Faith’s so proud of. That won’t be easy, especially since those old feelings that started all the trouble... Well, let’s just say he can’t go back there, because he doesn’t want to relive the memories of the terrible accident that drove them apart.


Faith started to laugh, because it was that or cry.

“What are you laughing at?” Dean asked as he fought a smile.

Faith got up on her knees and lifted a muddy hand, smacking it down on his shoulder. “We’re hopeless.”

Dean stared at the new mud print on his shirt. “That’s going to cost you.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Faith said, making a second attempt at standing. “You look more afraid of getting dirty than I do.”

The challenge had been presented, and Dean Presley didn’t back down from a challenge. Faith wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten. Dean used both hands to grab fistfuls of slop.

“Not scared, huh?”

Faith’s heart beat a little faster. If she didn’t move, she’d be washing mud out of her hair for sure.

The twinkle in his eyes reminded her of the boy she once loved.


Dear Reader (#ulink_0ec869a6-c25d-530f-90b9-cfda5e7d193d),

There is nothing more important to me than family. I have two younger brothers whom I have always felt the need to look out for, even as they have grown into men with their own families. So I can relate to Faith Stratton in so many ways. Faith and her brother, Sawyer, have relied on each other since they were little. When their father died and left them in charge of running his horse farm and equine therapy center, their need to watch out for one another only grew stronger.

Dean Presley understands the importance of being there for a sibling, as well. Only, he’s struggling with the guilt of not being there for his sister when she needed him. Twelve years ago, Dean left Grass Lake, Tennessee, with no desire to return. He’d rather stay away than face the reminders of what was lost there. His new responsibility is to his record company, Grace Note Records. And what Grace Note needs is some new talent. Talent that Sawyer Stratton has in spades.

The Girl He Used to Love is a story about knowing not only when to hold on and when to let go, but what to hold on to, as well. I love my brothers, but I know I have to let them make their own way in this world—even if I am the older and wiser big sister.

I hope you enjoy this first story in the Grace Note Records series. It’s bound to be a bumpy ride, but the happy-ever-after is always worth it!

xoxo,

Amy Vastine




The Girl He Used to Love

Amy Vastine







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


AMY VASTINE has been plotting stories in her head for as long as she can remember. An eternal optimist, she studied social work, hoping to teach others how to find their silver lining. Now she enjoys creating happily-ever-afters for all to read. Amy lives outside Chicago with her high school sweetheart turned husband, three fun-loving children and their sweet but mischievous puppy dog. Visit her at www.amyvastine.com (http://www.amyvastine.com).


To my brothers, Andrew and Adam. Always remember that I will be there to pick you up when you fall...but give me a minute to finish laughing!


Contents

COVER (#u307d2c73-9372-5c09-8591-8c55bff0b8ed)

BACK COVER TEXT (#ude3cd880-36d9-57b0-bf55-b2892ed26b26)

INTRODUCTION (#uacc6be54-5178-5615-b8f0-15ce9cab4abe)

Dear Reader (#ulink_47471ef0-04de-5b4d-a019-6609e4fe1b5b)

TITLE PAGE (#u5443e9d3-91f2-5e8e-924e-491842c4d845)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u2da49083-fcf7-53ea-bd20-b0dddd7aca05)

DEDICATION (#u59a18dd2-1d1e-50db-af5c-f126e7f50e96)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_3465789f-2bae-555d-9adf-249f8676993a)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a5825a40-69f4-59ee-964f-2af121a63460)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6162329a-329a-5db4-aab0-55c757f70592)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_211ae2b9-5c1d-5280-a511-a9d47b5b5a83)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_54c35e14-dae7-5458-923d-64e74b03f2ca)

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_b4ddb191-ebf0-5dbc-b36f-033e73db74b8)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_a41bef05-1e23-528b-adca-24e4f05d01f8)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_468cef26-ba04-5d16-bb97-b347c27225dd)

LUCK WAS A funny thing. People could be blessed with the good kind and then cursed with a string of the bad. Good luck made people millionaires overnight. It caused paths to cross and lost valuables to be found. The not-so-good kind led to much less desirable endings...like standing umbrella-less on the side of the road with nothing but a cell phone for a flashlight in a torrential downpour that had begun at exactly the same time as the horrific thump-thump-thumping noise coming from the front passenger-side tire.

Dean Presley was fed up with the string of bad luck that had become his reality lately. Not only was he still over an hour away from Nashville but he most definitely had a flat tire.

“Seriously?” he shouted up at the heavens.

Climbing back into his car, Dean would have given just about anything for a towel. He held his phone out until it touched the windshield, desperate for a cell signal. When that didn’t work, he reached back and pointed the phone in the other direction. Still nothing. He might as well have been in the middle of the Smoky Mountains given the complete lack of cell service around here.

He tossed the useless piece of technology in the backseat and turned up the heat, hoping to fight off the chill. He never should have gotten off the highway and taken these deserted back roads, even though he knew them well. He rested his head on the steering wheel. When it rained, it poured. Literally.

The unceasing rain might be the reason there was no one on the road. Dean had gotten off the interstate because of an accident that had shut down all lanes going north. The alternate route had been a blessing at first, but not so much now that he was in need of some help. Tonight was full of shouldn’t-haves, starting with making this trip in the first place.

Driving down to Birmingham to scout a band he’d heard about from a friend had been a complete bust. Maybe the band was having a bad night, but the drummer couldn’t keep the beat and the singer kept forgetting the words. Their lead guitarist was decent but, unfortunately for him, he was doomed to playing hole-in-the-wall bars in Alabama for the rest of his life unless he found new bandmates. Basically, Dean’s time would have been better spent searching YouTube for some undiscovered talent.

Two brightly shining headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. He switched on his hazards, praying the driver would stop, but the sixteen-wheeler whizzed by, spraying the broken-down BMW with water from the flooded road. No one was going to save him.

There was only one thing to do and that was to make a run for it. The sinking feeling in his stomach kept him right where he was, though. It had been a dozen years since he had been back to the place he used to call home. Grass Lake, Tennessee, held too many painful memories. Dean had left the summer before his senior year of college and had never come back. Not even for holidays.

Holidays were the worst.

“In and out,” he said to himself. “Find a phone, call Landon and leave. No one will know you were there.”

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, making him question his sanity. He turned the car off and opened the door.

* * *

“ANY COOKIES LEFT?”

Faith gave Old Man Middleton an apologetic smile. Every Friday night the Sundown Bar and Grill featured one of her alcohol-inspired desserts. “Sorry, Hank. I made Rum and Coke Swirled Shortbread for tonight. Those went pretty fast.”

Hank snapped his fingers as he sat on the stool beside her. “I knew I should have stopped by earlier. That’s what I get for coming for a nightcap instead of an imperative.”

“I think you mean an aperitif,” Faith said, trying hard to hold back her laughter.

“That’s what I said,” Hank asserted. He leaned across the bar. “You sure your brother ain’t got a couple hidden away? I came out in the pouring rain for your cookies.”

Faith shook her head. She’d have to run a special batch of cookies over to his place in the morning to make up for it.

Hank sat back. “Guess I’ll have to settle for the liquid version.”

Faith’s younger brother had already anticipated his order and set the drink down in front of him. Sawyer had a way of meeting people’s needs before they even knew what they needed. It was a gift he had inherited from their father. Faith’s heart ached a little at the thought.

“You got here in time to catch my second set. That’s got to be worth something,” Sawyer said.

For a couple months now Sawyer had spent his weekend evenings tending bar and entertaining the customers with a few songs. Faith had made him promise this little side job wouldn’t interfere with his responsibilities at the farm, and so far, Sawyer had made it work.

“Well, your father used to brag about you playing a mean guitar.”

The Sundown had been their daddy’s favorite place to hang out after a long day on the horse farm. He loved chatting up the other regulars and telling stories that were oftentimes more fiction than fact. Nothing ever brought the guy down.

Nothing except one fatal heart attack that ended his life way too soon.

“If you ask real nice, I bet Sawyer will take a request,” Faith said.

Sawyer shot his sister a look. Faith was sure her little brother didn’t know many tunes from back in Hank’s day, but ever the quick thinker, he offered up a suggestion instead. “Are you a Johnny Cash fan?”

“What does a young man like you know about Johnny Cash?”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I know about Johnny Cash, Mr. Middleton,” Sawyer answered with his trademark grin complete with the dimples that made every woman in Grass Lake swoon. Too bad her brother had no intention of ever settling down. He had dated a few nice girls but never let anyone get too close.

Sawyer checked his hair in the mirrored backsplash and whistled for his buddy to bring him his guitar. Faith moved to the other side of the bar to cover for her brother while he performed. She had to admit, the kid had some talent. He wrote his own songs and played the guitar pretty well for a self-taught man.

Josie Peters leaned against the bar. A widow with a teenage daughter, Josie had moved to Grass Lake a few years ago and used some of the money she had inherited from her late husband’s estate to buy the Sundown. She and Faith had become friends almost immediately.

Josie was the one who’d come up with the idea to feature a drink-and-cookie special Friday nights. She’d begged Faith to help her out after tasting one of Faith’s mudslide brownies at a potluck dinner, and since Faith had difficulty saying no, the treats were now a customer favorite.

“Did you get a look at what just walked in?” she asked, nodding toward the entrance.

The man Josie was ogling must have swum here. That or his clothes had just come out of the washing machine without going through the spin cycle. Faith would have bet that if he took off his shoe, he could fill a glass with the water that was inside.

“He must not be from around here.” The dimly lit bar made it difficult to see his face.

“Maybe I can convince him to change that,” Josie said with a wink.

Every able-bodied, single guy in Grass Lake had been on Josie’s list of potential replacement husbands since she had decided to jump back into the dating pool. She had yet to catch one in her net, so this fresh blood made her absolutely giddy.

Faith couldn’t blame her for staring at the newcomer. His red shirt clung to his chest and when he stepped further in, she could see his dirty-blond hair looked a little darker from being wet than the short, close-cropped beard he was sporting. With great effort, he shoved his hand in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his phone. The only way that thing was going to work was if its case was waterproof.

His frustration showed as he pressed the same button over and over without a positive result. Giving up, he headed in their direction. Josie readied herself for the big introduction by primping her hair with one hand and putting the other on her hip.

“You don’t happen to have a pay phone I could use or maybe a cell phone I could borrow?” His voice was deep and husky. Now that he was close, his intensely green eyes made Faith’s heart stop. She hadn’t recognized him from afar, but those eyes...she would never forget those eyes.

“You can use my phone, stranger,” Josie said, completely unaware of who she was talking to. She hadn’t lived in Grass Lake long enough to know the man was no stranger. “You look like you’ve been standing in the rain all night.”

“Something like that,” he answered. “Got a flat on Highway 14 and had to walk here.”

“Dean?” Faith choked out, her heart pounding like crazy.

Water from his hair dripped into his narrowing eyes. She could tell the moment he recognized her. She watched the muscle in his jaw tick before he exhaled her name.

She never thought she’d see Dean Presley again, and certainly not in Grass Lake. If there was one thing she remembered clearly, it was his desire to leave this town for good. Part of her had been relieved by his decision. It had saved her from having to face him after what had happened.

She forced herself to breathe as she pulled a clean dish towel out from under the bar and tried to act like there wasn’t a heartbreaking history between them. With a plastered-on smile, she handed it to him. “This won’t help all that much, but you can at least dry your face.”

He tentatively took it and wiped his brow. “It’s been one heck of a night.”

Josie put a hand on his shoulder. “You two know one another?”

Faith and Dean exchanged a look. Faith had known a Dean Presley who was probably very different than the one standing on the other side of the bar right now. His sister had been the best friend she’d ever had. He had been her first love. She had lost them both one fateful night a dozen years ago.

“You could say that,” Dean said, handing the towel back to Faith.

“Hey, Josie!” Bruce Gibson called from a table across the bar. He and his buddies were celebrating his fortieth birthday. “Another round!”

Josie glanced at Faith, silently checking if it was okay to leave them alone.

“I’ll let you two catch up, then,” she said once Faith gave her a nod.

Faith’s throat was too dry to speak. For a fleeting moment she thought about how Addison would make fun of the two of them staring at each other like a pair of idiots.

“You look great,” Dean finally said. “All grown up.”

He had always treated her like she was a little kid. Faith and Addison had followed him around like puppies. He used to get so annoyed, but that changed the summer Faith was eighteen. That was the year he’d finally looked at her as someone other than his baby sister’s friend.

“That’s what happens. Time passes, we grow up.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s true for most of us.”

She really was an idiot. Not everyone was lucky enough to grow old. Seeing him had caused her to lose her mind. She pulled the cordless phone out from under the bar. “You can use this,” she said, setting it in front of him.

He thanked her and seemed anxious for their reunion to come to an end. She moved on to another customer and tried to keep her emotions in check.

Josie cut the music that played throughout the bar and welcomed Sawyer back to the tiny stage in the corner, barely big enough for the two of them to stand on. Josie stepped down as Sawyer strummed his guitar. He gave Hank a shout out before singing his version of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire.”

For some reason the song seemed to give Dean pause. He hung up and set the phone down. Dean had always had a thing for country music. People used to tease him given his last name and his complete inability to carry a tune, but Dean didn’t have to play music to love it. Addison used to call him obsessed. When Faith was a kid, she wished he was as passionate about her as he was about music. Now, she’d give anything to go back in time and make sure he never gave her a second thought.

She realized she had been staring when Dean waved her over.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked him, his eyes returning to her brother.

“No, but you can tell me who that guy is.” He pointed in the direction of the stage. Maybe he was as surprised as Hank that a young guy could make such an iconic country song his own. That was what Sawyer did best, take something old and make it new.

“That’s my brother.”

His wide eyes showed his surprise. He held a hand waist high. “That’s your little brother?” Twelve years ago, Sawyer had been a scrawny middle-schooler.

“That’s what my daddy told me when they brought him home from the hospital. Although, I often wonder if the doctors pulled a switcheroo.” Her attempt at lightening the mood fell flat. Dean went back to watching Sawyer with intense interest.

After the cover song, Sawyer sang one of his originals about chasing fireflies. He’d never admit it, but that song had something to do with their mom. She had run off and left them behind when Sawyer and Faith were just kids, but before that she had been the one who would take them out on a hot summer night armed with a pickle jar and a lid poked with holes. He pretended to hate her. Maybe a little part of him did, but there was another part of him that missed her as much as Faith did.

“Can you reintroduce us when he’s finished?” Dean asked when the song came to an end.

“Why? You want him to help you change your flat tire?”

“No,” he answered as if she hadn’t been kidding. “I want to make your brother a star.”


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d91fbb17-923a-5c43-8edf-d8cbf454150f)

DEAN SHOULD HAVE left the moment he realized he was sharing space with none other than Faith Stratton. At the very least, he should have stayed on the phone, begging his business partner to come rescue him so he could get out of this town before anyone else spotted him. Though, given their history, it was unlikely Faith would go running to his parents’ house to announce his arrival.

Gone was the little girl who had been attached to Addison’s hip and the sweet, doe-eyed teenager who had made him lose his mind and his sister in the process. In her place was a gorgeous, dark-haired, grown-up woman. Those warm brown eyes were still capable of stopping a man’s heart, but everything else had changed...matured.

Seeing her stirred up feelings he preferred to avoid, bury, pretend he never felt. Dean was the master at hiding his true emotions. He also had a knack for keeping his personal life very separate from his business life, and this detour into Grass Lake had quickly become business.

Sawyer was the answer to Dean’s prayers. It had been a long time since he had heard someone sing with such real emotion. He had noticed it during the Johnny Cash cover; he had felt it during the second song. Dean needed to talk to this guy and get him in front of Landon immediately.

With her hands on her hips and her chin tipped down, Faith frowned in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s amazing, Faith. I could introduce him to some people in the business. Does he write his own stuff?”

Her eyes gave away her wariness. She folded her arms across her chest. “Sometimes.”

That was a plus and made the guy that much more desirable. “I have a legitimate record label with real artists signed to it. He could have a real music career.”

“My brother helps me run the farm. Singing is what he does for fun, not for a living.”

Before he could explain how that could change, Faith was called away by another customer. Dean had worked at the Strattons’ horse farm and equine therapy center that last summer in Grass Lake. It was a worthwhile business, but Dean knew how much work went into it. Hopefully, Sawyer would be a little more excited about Dean’s proposition than his sister was. He was exactly what Grace Note Records had been looking for—young, attractive and, most importantly, talented.

Bringing in a potential new artist would ease Landon’s mind and keep him from giving up on their company. Without Landon, Dean would have to close up shop. He didn’t have the capital to buy his partner out.

The rest of Sawyer’s set finished strong. It didn’t matter if he was singing a cover or an original, the songs all sounded as if every note belonged to him. He had a unique sound that would do well on the radio.

Faith approached her brother as soon he stepped off the tiny corner stage. She whispered in his ear and he immediately glanced in Dean’s direction. The two siblings exchanged a few more words before Sawyer made his way to the bar.

“Dean Presley—long time, no see.” Sawyer Stratton looked more like his father than the boy Dean had once known. He had big, brown, soulful eyes and chiseled features that would definitely make women swoon when he was on stage. There was nothing scrawny about him and he might have been an inch or two taller than Dean. “You got something against umbrellas?”

Dean could only imagine how ridiculous he looked as the two men shook hands. He ran a hand through his towel-dried hair and glanced down at the puddle of water that had collected under his bar stool. He was a wreck.

“I’ve got nothing against umbrellas. I would have loved an umbrella tonight.”

“You in town for the weekend? Your mom didn’t mention you were coming home when I saw her earlier this week.”

Dean loved his mother, but he would have to convince Sawyer not to mention this visit. “I wasn’t planning on being in town at all. I was headed back to Nashville after a scouting trip to Birmingham. If my car hadn’t gotten a flat, I never would have heard you sing. You were a million times more entertaining than the band I saw earlier tonight. Did you write some of that set yourself?”

“About half.”

“Ever post songs on the internet? Have any social media presence?”

“Nope. No time for that. Only place I play is right here,” Sawyer said.

“What if I told you I could give you lots of time to play music?”

“Oh, yeah? You want to make me the next Boone Williams?” Sawyer snickered like it was a joke.

Country star Boone Williams had been the first to sign with Dean’s label after the singer had a falling out with his record company. At the time, it had seemed like a huge win. Little had Dean and Landon known the problem was more Boone than it was his label.

It had been five years since the megastar recorded an album and three years of nothing but bad press. Stories of infidelity, drug and alcohol problems, divorce and a child custody war circulated ad nauseam. Dean had convinced Boone to go to rehab, but the guy was still in a fragile state, claiming with his sobriety had come a complete loss of creativity. There were no songs to record in his near future.

Lately all Boone did was cost Dean money. Sawyer would not become another Boone. Dean’s gut told him he had a gold mine in front of him. “I want to make you the next Sawyer Stratton.”

Sawyer called Faith over. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. Her slender neck and apple cheeks were slightly flushed. She had always been pretty but that word no longer did her justice. Dean hated himself for drinking her in.

“Something tells me you put him up to this,” Sawyer said to his sister. “If this is payback for telling Charles Hackney you like guys who wear tight jeans and big belt buckles, so help me...”

Faith poked her brother in the chest. “Don’t you dare mention tight jeans and Charles in the same sentence. I’m not sure I’ll be able to look at that man the same way ever again.”

Sawyer’s grin was wide and toothy. Something told Dean he was the same old troublesome younger brother he had been.

“Just tell the truth,” Sawyer demanded. “Are you two messing with me?”

“I’m not joking,” Dean insisted. “I need new artists and you’re the first real talent I’ve seen in a long time. I would love to hear you sing again.”

Sawyer gave him a light punch in the shoulder. “Well, flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Your mom is going to be ecstatic,” Faith said with a smile, leaving Dean to question what his mother had to do with this. If he was lucky, he’d be out of here before she even heard he was in town.

“She’ll probably throw you a welcome home parade,” Sawyer added.

Every muscle in Dean’s body tensed. “Oh, I’m not staying. I was thinking you could come to Nashville. Meet some people. Nashville’s where the magic happens.”

“Nashville?” Faith’s face drained of color. “Things are kind of busy at the farm right now. One of the paddocks needs the fencing along the east side replaced and Sawyer’s in the middle of revamping the tack room.”

“Nashville is where the magic happens,” Dean repeated, looking at Sawyer in hopes of swaying him.

“I think what my sister is trying to say is I’ve got responsibilities here, Dean. I appreciate that you think I sound good enough to do more than play in this old bar, but with Dad gone, it’s just me and Faith, and we have the farm to run.”

Responsibilities? Didn’t Sawyer have a responsibility to himself to do something he loved? And Dean didn’t need to ask him if he loved making music; he’d heard it in every word the man sang.

The relief on Faith’s face stopped him from pointing that out. She needed her brother, and Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to handle that. He had to get back to Nashville. Once he was out of this godforsaken town, he’d find a way to lure Sawyer there.

Dean glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. Too late to ask Landon to drive down here to get him. Going to his parents’ house was completely out of the question. If he showed his face there, they’d never let him leave. There was only one option.

“I don’t want to bother my parents this late at night and I need a place to crash. You think I could sleep on your couch? I’ll be gone in the morning, I swear.”

Sawyer glanced at Faith, who bit her bottom lip. It wasn’t any wonder she’d be hesitant about inviting him into her house. The last time he had been there, he’d said some pretty horrible things.

“I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind being woken up because you were home,” she said in her attempt to say no without actually saying the word.

“I don’t want to make a scene, you know?”

“I get it,” Sawyer said.

“What about Tanner’s B&B?” Faith was quick to suggest.

“They don’t take guests in the middle of the night, Faith. You know that,” Sawyer argued.

Dean was desperate. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

“You can come home with us,” Sawyer said. “I’ll even let you borrow some dry clothes because I’m not only talented but kind and generous, as well.”

“Right. That or you don’t want me to ruin your couch.”

Sawyer grinned. “That, too.”

* * *

FAITH MUST HAVE misheard her brother because there was no way he’d offered to let Dean Presley sleep on their couch. She waited and cornered him while Dean went to hold his phone under the hand dryer for a minute.

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t let him stay at our house.”

“What else is he supposed to do?” Sawyer replied.

“He has family in town. Family that would probably love to see him.” Not that he cared about the people he’d left behind. His parents visited him in Nashville, but he had made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with this town...nothing to do with Faith. He had always blamed her for what had happened to Addison. Of course, no one blamed Faith as much as Faith did.

“It’s late, sis. Have a heart.”

He was so much like their dad, always willing to give the shirt off his back. Faith was really no different. Josie had warned them both that their generosity was their weakness. Kindness rarely helped pay the bills. He was also infuriatingly right. There really wasn’t anywhere else Dean could go if he refused to wake his family. One night on their couch wasn’t going to kill her.

“Fine.”

Sawyer gave her a kiss on the top of the head. “You want to close up for me? His jeans are so wet, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable for him. Unless you want to take him...”

No way did Faith want to be alone with Dean. The last time they were alone at her house, he had ripped her heart out. It was almost closing time, anyway, and Josie wouldn’t care who helped her lock up. “I’ll stay. You go.”

Dean returned from the men’s room. His water-logged phone still didn’t work.

“Let’s go, Music Man,” Sawyer said, grabbing his guitar case. “Let’s get you dried off before you chafe something.”

She watched Dean thank Hank for holding the door open for him and Sawyer. He still had his good manners. And broad shoulders. And green eyes that matched the color of the rolling hills that surrounded Grass Lake. Faith’s chest burned. He also had a stone heart.

“Am I going to get the story on that one?” Josie asked when she came back to the bar with a drink order. “Or is this something I’m going to have to pry out of you with promises of chocolate and my child’s free labor?”

“Your daughter already works for free,” Faith quipped. Lily volunteered at the farm several times a week. “You can’t bribe me with something I already get.”

Josie’s round face always wore a smile. Her blue eyes often had a mischievous glint. She nudged Faith with her elbow. “Then just tell me.”

Faith let out a heavy sigh of resignation. “Dean is Marilee Presley’s son. He’s a big-shot record executive in Nashville. He thinks Sawyer should come to the city and start a music career or something.” It sounded even more ridiculous when she said it out loud.

“That’s amazing!” Josie lit up. “Does he work with anyone I listen to?”

“Boone Williams.”

“Boone ‘She Loves Me Better Than You’ Williams?”

Faith wished Josie wasn’t so impressed. “That’s the one,” she said.

Josie hopped up and down. “Our Sawyer is going to be famous like Boone Williams? This is better than winning the lottery! Why aren’t you excited?”

“Our Sawyer runs Helping Hooves with me.”

The Stratton siblings had been working under their father since they were old enough to hold a dandy brush. John Stratton had believed caring for horses was therapeutic. He had gone back to school after their mother left and gotten his master’s degree in counseling with a certificate in equine-assisted therapy. Soon after, he’d opened up Helping Hooves.

Faith had always loved horses and couldn’t wait to follow in her father’s footsteps. She had imagined working side by side with her dad for years and years. Now that he was gone, Faith was the only licensed therapist while Sawyer assisted and did most of the heavy lifting. They weren’t doing a terrible job running the place, but there was no way one of them could do it alone.

“We’re trying to get accredited and there’s a lot of work to do. Sawyer’s place is here, not Nashville,” Faith added.

“Oh, please! Your brother has more talent in his pinkie finger than everyone else in Grass Lake combined. If anyone has a shot at being something, at being someone, it’s Sawyer.”

Wasn’t he already someone?

“How many people get discovered in small-town bars and become super famous?” Faith asked Josie, but answered first. “Not many. My brother is too much of a realist to get caught up in some crazy fantasy.”

There was nothing to worry about. Faith would ignore the tightness in her shoulders and the way her stomach ached. Dean would leave. There was no way he would stick around long enough to convince Sawyer to go with him. Dean wouldn’t be able to get out of Grass Lake quick enough.

Faith was annoyed at the way that thought stung. It made little sense. Addison would have been shaking her head in disgust. She hadn’t understood how Faith could have those kinds of feelings for her brother. Oh, how Faith wished she had never felt anything for Dean. Had she not, maybe Addison would still be alive today.

“Say what you want,” Josie told her. “But I saw the way he listened to your brother play. It was like watching a snake charmer hypnotizing a cobra. It will be Sawyer doing the helping when he sells a million records for Mr. Presley’s company.”

Josie announced last call and slipped behind the bar to take over for Sawyer. Faith grabbed a dish towel and went to clean off one of the newly abandoned tables. Faith needed Sawyer’s help more than Dean ever would. Her brother would stay loyal to the family. There was no doubt in Faith’s mind.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_69ad5410-b0be-59ab-aecb-ada5ccb5f5ea)

DRY SOCKS WERE Dean’s new favorite thing. Although it was possible hot showers ranked a little higher. Hot showers, dry socks and dry pants were definitely in the top three. It didn’t even matter that the sweatpants were a little long.

“Feeling better?” Sawyer asked when Dean joined him in the Strattons’ sitting room. The chocolate Lab at his feet lifted his head and gave Dean a once-over before probably determining they had already been acquainted. And by acquainted, Dean meant that Sawyer’s dog, Scout, had stuck his nose right in his crotch and given him a good sniffing. Dean felt like maybe that made them more than acquaintances at this point.

“One hundred percent.”

“Well, you look a million times better,” Sawyer said, leaning back in his oversize upholstered rocking chair. “I think I might actually be able to be in the same room as you without laughing.”

“Does that mean you might reconsider my offer to come to Nashville?”

A smile spread across Sawyer’s face as he shook his head. “Not tonight. Faith says yes to a lot of things she’d rather say no to, and letting you stay here was harder than she wants you to know. I’m not going to push her buttons any more tonight.”

Dean felt a little guilty for using the Strattons, given the way things had gone down between him and Faith after Addison’s death. But one night and he’d be gone. This visit would be nothing more than a tiny blip on the screen of their lives.

“We can talk about music, though. No harm in that,” Sawyer suggested.

Talking about music was easy. Dean had been in love with music since as far back as he could remember. Growing up, his dad had played banjo in a bluegrass band on the weekends and his mother had an unhealthy obsession with Garth Brooks. The first CD he’d bought was a George Strait album that his eight-year-old self had listened to on a constant loop for months.

The more he and Sawyer talked, the more Dean could see the young man had a similar passion for great music. His eyes lit up when he told Dean a story about buying his first guitar. He had taught himself how to play by watching videos on the internet. Eventually he’d started writing his own songs as well as fooling around with the arrangements of some classics. Country music was his first love but he’d learned a couple Eagles’ tunes for his old man.

“I was sorry to hear about your dad.”

“He was a good man. An even better dad.” Sawyer sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. His gaze fell to the floor. “It’s been six months and I’m still not used to him being gone. It’s like I keep waiting for him to walk through the door and tell me what needs to get done around here.”

Dean knew that feeling all too well. It was a big reason for not wanting to be in this town. He imagined seeing Addison at every turn. She used to love hanging out at Gibson’s Five and Dime, spending her allowance on candy and teeny-bopper magazines. How many times had she begged Mrs. Lam at the salon to dye her strawberry-blond hair a different color?

He’d never understood why she hadn’t been satisfied with the way she looked the moment she turned fourteen. Maybe it was a girl thing, but Addison hadn’t been the kind of girl who needed anyone’s approval. Addison had always done what Addison wanted.

“You okay?” Sawyer asked.

Dean nodded and shook off the memories of his baby sister. “I was just thinking about how hard you must have to work around here. If it’s anything like the summer I was on staff, the work’s never done.”

“Faith and I have been working our butts off to keep Helping Hooves in business. It hasn’t been easy,” Sawyer admitted. “We’re in the process of getting accredited by this equine therapy association. If we pass inspection, we’ll have a better shot of paying our bills and expanding the services we provide. Faith understands it all more than I do. I just do what I’m told. Being a grown-up is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Is this what you see yourself doing the rest of your life? Keeping the farm running?”

Dean watched Sawyer think it over. It wasn’t a simple yes-or-no question for him. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I like to focus on one thing at a time or else it gets too overwhelming. Right now, the only thing Faith lets me think about is the hundred pages of requirements we need to meet in order for Helping Hooves to get accredited.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. He needed Sawyer now, not later. “I get that the farm is your priority, but I have to believe you’ve thought about what it would be like if you could write and perform music for a living. You’re too good not to have thought about it at least once.”

Sawyer sat back. “I may have thought about it once or twice. But those were just daydreams.”

“Well, I’m not here to make you any promises,” Dean said, leaning in. “I don’t make promises, I offer opportunity. I’d love to hear some more of your songs, and if the rest of them are as good as what I heard tonight, I’d love to offer you the opportunity to record some of them.”

“But that would happen in Nashville?”

“Everything happens in Nashville. I can get you studio time there. I can introduce you to some other musicians. I’m telling you, once we get some things recorded, it can all move real fast. I’ll have you singing in front of crowds a whole lot bigger than what comes into the Sundown.”

Sawyer scratched the top of Scout’s head. “That sounds like quite an offer.”

“It is. I’m the guy who turns dreams into reality.”

“I’m sure most people would say it was an offer they couldn’t refuse.” Sawyer paused. “But I’m going to need some time to think about it and talk to my sister. Just because I haven’t thought about what I want to do with the rest of my life, doesn’t mean I want to leap without looking.”

“Fair enough.” Dean could respect his need to make an informed decision. “Trust me, I don’t want you saying yes and then backing out in a month, either. I want artists who are committed. If you sign with me, I can promise you that I will be committed to you.”

“I thought you said you don’t make promises.” One side of Sawyer’s mouth curled up. He was all too pleased with himself for catching Dean on that one.

“That’s the only promise I’ll make to you. Loyalty is that important to me.”

Sawyer yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to hit the hay. I’m not usually home this early and I think I better take advantage of the extra hours of sleep. I put a couple blankets and a pillow over there.” He pointed to the chair in the corner. “The couch doesn’t make too bad of a bed. I’ve fallen asleep there a few times.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure. Thanks again for putting a roof over my head tonight.” Dean really did appreciate the kindness.

“Just don’t mention any more of this Nashville stuff to Faith,” Sawyer said, getting to his feet. “She never really recovered from losing Addison, and now with Dad gone... She puts on a brave face but I know she’s having a real hard time. I’m all she’s got right now.”

Dean’s heart lurched at the mention of his sister’s name. He knew how close the two of them had been, but sometimes it was hard to find sympathy for Faith. Things could have been so different if she hadn’t opened her mouth to Addison.

This wasn’t about Addison or Faith. This was about Grace Note. Sawyer was exactly the kind of artist they were looking for. Bringing him to Nashville was imperative. Landon needed some proof that Dean could help the company rebound after the latest Boone Williams debacle.

Dean knew the music business and nurturing the talent in an artist was what he did best. In his mind, he was already booking shows in all the right places and setting up appearances that would benefit Sawyer and the label the most. He knew exactly who to hand off some demos to and which radio personalities to start buttering up.

Sawyer was going to be the next big thing. Dean just needed to figure out how to convince him that his dreams could be a reality.

* * *

DEAN WENT FROM dreaming about platinum records and big wins at the Country Artist Awards to fantasizing about chocolate-chip cookies. Why was he dreaming about cookies? They smelled so good. If they tasted half as good as they smelled, they’d be the best cookies he’d ever eat in his life. He rolled to his left and instead of being sprawled across his pillow-topped, queen-size bed, he fell like a ton of bricks to the floor.

“What the—?” Dean sat up and took in his surroundings. He hadn’t fallen out of his bed. He’d fallen off the couch, a couch that belonged to Grace Note’s next chart-topper.

The rain was still falling but the dark skies of night were now a cloudy-morning gray. Dean pulled himself up and sat back down on the couch. Rubbing his neck, he worked out a kink. The couch hadn’t been his worst night’s sleep, but it wasn’t what he’d consider good, either. On the coffee table sat his clothes—clean, dry and folded in a neat pile.

Dean tried to come up with a plan for fixing his tire and getting out of town before his parents found out he was here. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the beeping of a timer. The sweet smell of fresh-baked cookies meant that it was probably attached to an oven. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since the fast food he’d inhaled in Birmingham.

Dean let his ears, nose and stomach be his guide. They did not lead him astray. The kitchen’s soft butter-yellow walls were so much brighter in the hazy morning light that streamed in through the windows in the cozy breakfast nook than they were last night. On the kitchen table were cooling racks covered in dozens of perfectly golden-brown, chocolate-chip cookies. He could almost taste the melted chocolate, brown sugar and something else he couldn’t quite identify.

The only thing that could pull his attention from these tempting cookies was the woman who’d made them. Faith slipped another cookie sheet into the oven. Her hot-pink apron was tied around her slim waist. Again, he was struck by how grown-up she looked. Where had the time gone? What would Addison have looked like at thirty years old?

He shook off thoughts of his baby sister. He couldn’t go there. Not when they threatened to unleash feelings he had successfully boxed up and put away years ago.

“Do I smell whiskey?” he asked, finally putting his finger on the mystery scent.

Faith jumped, clutching her chest and shrieking loud enough to be heard for miles. Before he had the opportunity to apologize, she whacked him with her spatula.

Dean tried to protect himself. “I’m sorry! Stop. Stop!” he pleaded.

She gathered her wits and appeared remorseful. “Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry.” Then quickly added, “But you really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

Keeping a safe distance, Dean tried to explain. “I wasn’t sneaking up on you. You didn’t even give me a chance to say good morning before you went postal on me.”

She pushed some stray strands of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. “I’m not used to people walking around the house like mice. Sawyer whistles everywhere he goes, so I always know when he’s coming.”

“Well, I apologize for not being a noisier guest. I’ll be sure to stomp through the house so you hear me coming from now on.” He reached for a cookie, figuring she owed him that much for attacking him. He was so hungry and the smell was so mouthwatering...

Faith smacked his hand with the spatula before he could grab one.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks turning red. “Just don’t touch my cookies.”

Dean was ready to wrestle that spatula from her hand. If she swatted him one more time, that thing was getting tossed outside as far as he could fling it. “You make cookies for breakfast, but I can’t have one?”

“These are for Mr. Middleton and the church bake sale tomorrow. Not for you. If you want a cookie, you can buy one tomorrow at church.”

“You made cookies that smell like whiskey for the church bake sale?”

There were dark circles under Faith’s eyes. “It’s my thing. I make cookies with a kick. I’ll have you know that the people in this town love them and come to the Sundown every Friday night to get their hands on them.”

“You sell cookies at the Sundown?” Temptation got the best of him and Dean reached for a cookie. Tennesseans sure did love their whiskey, and Dean was no exception.

Faith raised the spatula, but he gave a warning of his own. “Put that thing down before one of us gets hurt. And by ‘us’ I mean me or that spatula.”

She set her weapon down and stepped back toward the oven. “My Salted Whiskey Chocolate-Chip Cookies happen to be my biggest seller. If you eat them, you are stealing from the church. You wouldn’t want to do that, now, would you, Dean Francis Presley?”

Using his middle name was unkind. His mother was the only one who used it. When he was younger, it had been said quite a bit. Addison and Faith had thought it was so funny.

“That’s a low blow. Maybe I want to steal one from Mr. Middleton. Come on, have mercy on your stranded houseguest.”

Faith pursed her lips. Sawyer had said she often said yes when she wanted to say no. He hoped this would be one of those times.

“Fine,” she relented. “You can have one cookie. But if I see you take any more than one, I’ll charge you five dollars per cookie.”

Dean was willing to accept any offer. He plucked the biggest cookie with the most chocolate from the nearest cooling rack and took a bite. It practically melted in his mouth. It was obvious these cookies were the ticket to heaven. One was not going to be enough now that he’d had a taste.

* * *

FAITH COULDN’T HELP but smile as she watched Dean share a moment with his cookie. He might have been falling in love. The expression on his face reminded her of Addison’s after her first kiss with Kenny Gordon.

Dean dashed out of the kitchen and, as quickly as he had disappeared, he returned with a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. He closed the distance between them, leaving her no way to escape.

Clean and dry looked good on him. It smelled even better. He had the kind of hair that women needed to grab by the fistful when he kissed them and made their knees weak. She felt sixteen again, infatuated with the unattainable. Experience told her that when you played with fire, you got burned, and that was not something she wanted to experience again.

“That was the best cookie I have ever had in my entire life. I think you should change the name to Faith and Whiskey Chocolate Chip, though. They’re sweet with a kiss of sass. Just like you.” He slipped the bill into the small pocket that was sewn on the chest of her apron. Faith held her breath as a devilish grin spread across his face. “I’ll take four.”

Stepping away, he snatched his paid-for cookies off the counter. His eyes closed when he took a bite.

Thankfully that left him completely unaware of the effect he had on Faith and her racing heart. Weak knees were nothing compared to her current state. Dizzy and hot, she felt like she had been knocked on the head and shoved in the oven. She spun and opened the refrigerator, letting the air inside cool her burning cheeks. Faith and Whiskey. She liked it. More than she should.

Dean wasn’t going to be around long enough to eat or name any more of her cookies. He’d be gone and nothing but a memory, like his sister. Faith poured a tall glass of milk and set it on the kitchen table where he had taken a seat to finish his cookie breakfast.

“The milk is on the house.”

“You are so much nicer without that spatula in your hand,” he said with a mouthful of cookie.

“I know your mother taught you not to talk with food in your mouth.” She shook her head and went to check on her last batch. She needed to remember why he was here.

Dean had run away while she’d spent the last decade trying to make amends to a ghost. Now he was back and talking about making her brother a star. That was not happening. Sawyer didn’t want to be a country music star. He was happy here, content to keep their father’s farm running, like she was.

“What time does your brother usually get up?” Dean must have read her mind.

“Sawyer’s already up. There are always chores to be done around here.” Faith figured pointing out how much work her brother had to do would help discourage Dean from pursuing his crazy idea to lure Sawyer to Nashville.

“Oh, I was going to ask him for a lift to my car. I figure the sooner I get that tire fixed, the sooner I can get out of here.”

The sooner the better, as far as Faith was concerned. No reason to delay the inevitable. “If you help me deliver these cookies, I’ll get you to your car faster than a jackrabbit on a date.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “See? Sweet and sassy,” he said with a shake of his head. “I missed you.”

His confession seemed to shock them both. All the air left Faith’s lungs and it was almost impossible to breathe more in. Dean’s face flushed red and he stood to place his empty milk glass in the sink.

Faith couldn’t believe how much three little words could affect her. He obviously didn’t mean it the way she wanted him to. She knew all too well what it was like to really miss someone. Faith missed her mother and now her father on a daily basis. She missed Addison so much it hurt. She could even admit to missing Dean, but he hated her. He had said as much the last time they had stood in this kitchen together.

“I’ll go get changed and then I’ll take you up on your offer,” he said, making his escape.

Faith could finally breathe again. She had often wished for just one more day with all of those people she missed. Now, standing in the kitchen with her stomach in knots, she realized one day would never be enough. Not when she had once wanted forever.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_159f63f4-f4bd-5858-abf7-dd3665acc1c8)

“THANKS FOR WASHING my clothes. I assume that was you,” Dean said, returning to the kitchen, ready to go.

“You’re welcome,” she replied as the oven buzzer went off. Effortlessly, Faith grabbed the fresh batch of cookies, set the baking tray on an empty cooling rack and went back to stacking cookies in travel containers. The woman had done this a time or two. She was in a zone.

Sleep was not something Faith apparently indulged in very often. How else could she have closed up the bar, done laundry and baked a hundred cookies all before eight in the morning? If this was normal for her, her work ethic rivaled Dean’s.

She placed a bowl of uncooked rice in front of him. “I also dried your phone.”

Dean fished it out. “In rice?”

“It’s a little life hack I learned from my friend Josie. Her daughter has ruined more than one phone in her short fifteen years.”

Dean powered up his device and silently rejoiced when it came to life. Work was his life and had been since he’d graduated from college. Hired straight out of school as a member of the Artist Development team at one of the biggest record labels in country music, Dean’s first job had been to nurture new talent and help them slowly build their careers with a string of album releases.

He’d been good at it, too, which was why his firing had come as such a shock. Apparently, product—not artist—development had become the company’s focus. Forget about supporting the creative side of an act. Sell, sell, sell.

It had made Dean furious and even more determined to prove the big guys had it all wrong. Using every penny he had saved and then some, he’d teamed up with his best friend and started an independent label with a focus on finding a balance between fostering creativity and making a profit. Grace Note Records was supposed to be the solution to all that was wrong with the music business. Dean still had high hopes. Landon not so much.

“Did it work?” Faith asked.

He had three missed calls from Landon and one from Boone Williams. “It did. Thanks again.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to make a couple calls while you finish up.”

Faith pressed a lid on one of her containers. “I’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” Dean headed back to the front room for some privacy and dialed Landon.

“You are alive!”

Dean chuckled. “Of course, I’m alive. My car got a flat in the middle of a downpour. My phone got soaked and I had to spend the night in some rinky-dink town outside of Nashville.”

“Are you back? Because you have got to do something about Boone. I’m not talking to him anymore.”

Landon Gilman and Dean had met in a business class at Belmont University and struck up an easy friendship. They both shared a love of music and had spent countless weekends at the local dive bars listening to all the undiscovered talent Nashville had to offer. While Dean’s parents had fully supported his choice to study Music Business, Landon’s parents had pushed him into accounting.

After graduation, the two had remained close friends. When Dean lost his job, Landon had been the one who planted the idea that maybe he could do this on his own. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Landon to quit his mundane auditing job and invest in the company. It had all been too easy. Until now.

Dean took a seat on the couch. Bad news should always be delivered to someone sitting down. “What’s the matter now?”

“He’s refusing to meet with Piper. Said there’s nothing we can say to change his mind, and if we push, he’s going to blow.”

Piper Starling was young, talented and the world’s biggest Boone Williams fan. She had a passion for country music and had been lighting up the charts since signing with Grace Note.

Piper also had a father/manager who imagined her to be the next Taylor Swift. Dean had a feeling that her dad was pushing her to write her own songs and try to cross over to pop music. He also feared that meant they were going to start looking for a bigger record company as soon as she fulfilled her contract with Grace Note.

Dean had hoped that a collaboration with Boone would encourage her to stay and reignite Boone’s creativity. It would solve many of Dean’s problems. He forgot that Boone never made anything easy.

“I’ll talk to him,” Dean promised. “He’ll come around once he sees that it’s in his best interest to cooperate.”

“Cooperation isn’t in that man’s vocabulary, Dean. And Heath Starling is not happy either, by the way.”

Of course he wasn’t. Dean scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll handle it.”

“You better, because I threw in the towel last night.” Every time Landon said something like that, Dean’s blood pressure rose to an unhealthy level. Landon had been rethinking his decision to leave the security of a boring life as an accountant thanks to their constant issues with Boone. Dean needed Landon if Grace Note was going to survive.

“I’ll text you when I get everyone on the same page. I still have to fix my tire, but I should be home by this afternoon,” Dean informed him just as Sawyer strolled in the front door, whistling away. “And I have good news. I promise. Don’t go job searching on LinkedIn again.”

“The only good news that’s going to keep me from looking elsewhere is that you’ve found another way to recoup the money we’ve invested in Boone so we can drop him.”

Sawyer might be just that. “I’ll talk to you when I get back in the city.” Dean hung up and went to the kitchen, where Sawyer had been headed.

“I’ll pick some up after I drop off these cookies,” Faith said to her brother. She smacked his hand as he reached for a cookie. “Everything needs to be perfect. Don’t cut any corners, because the people at NETA will notice, and you know how important this is.”

“I know, and I’ll get it all done before the visit next week. I promise.” Sawyer held his hand out. “Can I please have a cookie now, boss?”

Faith set one cookie on his waiting palm. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Dean’s guilt resurfaced and so did his grief as he watched brother and sister sharing a moment. Would Addison have needed him? Would they have remained close?

“You could if you stopped doing everything for everyone else in this town,” Sawyer said before devouring his cookie in two bites.

Sawyer stepped to the right and Faith noticed Dean standing in the doorway. “Are you ready to go?”

Dean pushed his feelings back into their hiding place. This was business, he told himself. Plain and simple. Sawyer was talented and could help get Grace Note out of the red. It wasn’t personal. Faith wasn’t Dean’s problem, anyway.

“Ready when you are.”

* * *

“IT LOOKS LIKE they have the road blocked off.” Faith pulled her car up next to the young deputy who was directing and diverting traffic. She rolled down the window. “Is there another way to get on Highway 14?”

Dressed in enough rain gear to protect him from a monsoon, the deputy pulled a whistle from his mouth. “We’ve been under a flash flood warning since last night. The highway’s closed from here to Highwood. You can take Whispering Hills down and get on 14 off Brighton.”

Brighton was a good fifteen miles from here.

“My car is no more than a mile down the road.” Dean leaned forward so the deputy could see him. “I need to fix a flat and then I’ll be headed north. Can you let us through?”

“Can’t do that, sir. Road’s closed. If you had a car out there, a flat tire is the least of your problems. Check back tomorrow.” He stuck his whistle back in his mouth and blew it at someone making a U-turn behind them.

Faith could feel one heck of a headache coming on. Maybe Dean would be willing to go to his parents’ now that he had to stick around a little longer. All she knew was that she needed to get him out.

“Take Whispering Hills but turn left on Rosewood,” Dean said.

“That doesn’t go all the way through to the highway. It dead-ends at the forest preserve.”

He kept his eyes fixed out the passenger-side window. “I’ll cut through the forest and come out right where my car is. I can’t sit around all day waiting for the road to open up.”

Faith figured she couldn’t talk him out of his plan. Dean had always been a leader, not a follower. Besides, it was only drizzling now, nothing like the thunderstorm that had hit last night.

Dean grabbed the umbrella from the backseat as Faith pulled into the parking lot. “Thanks again for taking me in last night.”

“No problem.” Faith opened her door as he stepped out.

“What are you doing?” he asked. The way he looked at her made Faith want to climb back in her car and drive away.

“Going with you,” she replied, pulling her hood over her head. “What if you need help?”

His eyes definitely rolled. “I got it, Faith. Don’t worry.”

“I either wait here for you or go with. But may I remind you that you can’t change a tire and hold an umbrella over your head at the same time?” Faith could be stubborn, too.

“Whatever.” Dean closed his door and stomped off into the forest.

Spring was in full bloom and the canopy of leaves provided some protection from the rain, but not enough to keep things dry. Faith was not wearing the right shoes to go traipsing through the wet brush. Instead of their footsteps crunching leaves and snapping branches, the only sound was the wet slap of their feet in mud.

Dean didn’t wait for her or check to make sure she was okay. He barreled through to the other side, where the ground became so saturated it was more like a lake.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean huffed with his hands on his hips. Faith trudged up next to him. Her shoes and socks were soaked.

They weren’t far from the road and through the trees she could see a car—a car that would be faring better if it was a boat. Water covered the tires.

“Is that—?”

Dean nodded and exhaled an exasperated breath. His car wouldn’t be taking him back to Nashville today. Or tomorrow. Or...

He turned around and stalked off in the direction they had come. She could understand his frustration, but did he have to be so rude?

“I’m sorry about your car. I can take you to your parents’ and I’m sure they’ll be able to find someone who can help you tow it out of there,” she said, desperately trying to keep up with him.

He stopped and Faith almost ran into him. “I’m not going to my parents’. Can you take me back to the farm?”

“You could be here a few days. Don’t you think you should let them know you’re here?” The thought of being around Dean for another day, possibly more, was enough to give Faith a full-blown panic attack.

“I can’t. Please, Faith.” He didn’t have to explain. She could see it in his eyes, the pain the memories were digging up.

There was no way she could put him through that. “Fine.”

His shoulders seemed to relax at her concession.

Instead of taking off and leaving her behind, he walked with her, even held out a hand to help her step over a fallen tree in their path.

Faith lifted her leg over the log but her foot stuck in the mud on the other side, throwing her off balance. She lunged forward, still gripping Dean’s hand. He tried to steady her but she ended up pulling him down with her.

Her knee sank into the mud with a splat. She stuck out her hands to stop from falling face-first. Dean dropped the umbrella and landed on his behind. Not good. Faith tried to get up, but her feet couldn’t get any traction and she fell again, sending splatters of mud everywhere.

“Great.” Dean held his hands up, searching for a way to get up without touching the mud. It was highly unlikely in Faith’s opinion.

She started to laugh because it was that or cry. They were both ridiculous and completely helpless.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked as he fought a smile.

Faith got up on her knees and lifted a muddy hand, smacking it down on his shoulder. “We’re hopeless.”

Dean stared at the new mud print on his shirt. “That’s going to cost you.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Faith said, making a second attempt at standing. “You look more afraid of getting dirty than I do.”

The challenge had been presented and Dean Presley didn’t back down from a challenge. Faith wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten.

Dean used both hands to grab fistfuls of slop. “Not scared, huh?”

Faith’s heart beat a little faster. If she didn’t move, she would be washing mud out of her hair for sure. The twinkle in his eyes reminded her of the boy she once loved.

She thought she could escape, but standing on this sludge was worse than being on ice. Her feet went out from under her again. Dean smacked her on the forehead with one hand.

Game on.


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_c19e697a-3b0f-583e-8ef6-250cb9175e23)

“I’LL PAY TO get your car detailed,” Dean offered as he stood beside Faith in front of her car. Her clean car.

“It’s not going to be cheap if we get in there like this,” Faith replied. Her face was hidden under a mask of mud. Even her eyelashes had globs stuck to them.

“True. You should probably pay since this was all your fault.”

“My fault?” She turned her head, her dirty hair flicking muddy water his way. “I slipped. You attacked me. We wouldn’t be nearly this messy if it wasn’t for you.”

Dean smirked. Mud wrestling with Faith was the most fun he’d had in a long time. It was like they were kids again, back when neither one of them had any worries or responsibilities.

“Also true. I’ll pay half. Can you unlock the doors now?”

They were both so dirty they’d be finding mud in places they usually never thought to check for days. Getting in meant transferring all that sludge to the light gray interior of the car. Faith let out a heavy sigh and unlocked the doors. Dean quickly called dibs on the shower when they got back to the farm.

“Nice try. I’m going to have Sawyer hose you off before you step foot in my house.”

Dean turned up the heat, smudging the button. “Oh, come on. You work on a horse farm. You’ve walked through that house dirty before.”

“Not this dirty.”

Dean tried not to lean back. Faith had scooped up a handful of mud and shoved it down the back of his shirt. It was cold and wet, and he wanted to keep the cleaning costs down. “Has anyone ever been this dirty? I don’t think so.”

One side of Faith’s mouth quirked up. “Do you remember when Addison heard about that spa in Belle Meade where they charge people outrageous amounts of money for fancy mud baths, and she thought she could get the same effect by lying in a mud puddle in one of our flooded paddocks?”

The memory of Mr. Stratton calling Dean’s parents to warn them that their daughter might smell like horse manure for a few days popped up and punched Dean in the gut. He could picture a thirteen-year-old Addison returning home wearing Faith’s clothes, which were at least two sizes too small. Faith had always been the Laurel to Addison’s Hardy. She had looked ridiculous and smelled even worse. Dean had teased her relentlessly for days after.

Faith laughed and the drying mud by her eyes cracked as the skin underneath it crinkled. “She told everyone at school that people in Europe bathed in the same stuff all the time because it detoxified the body of impurities. Jill and Veronica believed every word and asked when they could come over for a treatment.”

That was a perfect example of who Addison had been. She could sell ice to a polar bear. She would have grown up to be someone amazing. The pain in Dean’s chest made it hard to breathe.

“You probably don’t remember,” Faith said, mistaking his silence for a lapse of memory.

“I remember everything. Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Did you ever think of that?” he asked, his voice a bit harsher than intended.

Faith stiffened in the driver’s seat. Her eyes stayed trained on the road. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up. I won’t do it again.”

Dean doubted that was possible. Everything in this town reminded him of his sister. It surely did the same for Faith. Maybe it was a bad idea to stay at the farm. He couldn’t go to his parents’, but he could see if there was a room open at Tanner’s. Of course, there was a greater chance he might run into his mother if he was in the middle of town. The farm was a safe distance from all the small-town eyes and ears.

A heavy silence fell between them as they made their way back. Sawyer waved from inside one of the paddocks when they pulled up. Keep your eye on the prize. Sawyer was the real reason for staying at the farm, the only reason Dean wasn’t going to call Landon and ask him to come get him out of here.

Sawyer pushed back his cowboy hat and stared wide-eyed at the two of them as they got out of the car. His dog barked, probably thinking they were creatures of some sort. “What in the world...?”

“It’s just me, Scout,” Faith told the dog. She tossed her keys to Sawyer. “Highway 14 is shut down thanks to the rain and Dean’s car is under water. I’m going to take a shower and then we can go over what you’ve gotten finished this morning. Jason’s bringing Freddy by at eleven for his session.”

She barely spared Dean a sideways glance before heading into the house. He had obviously hurt her feelings. He tried to not feel bad about it, but that wasn’t working too well.

“Care to fill in the giant blanks?” Sawyer asked Dean.

“She slipped in some mud and dragged me down with her.” Just like she’d done with her memories of Addison. “Do you think I could borrow some more clothes?”

“This relationship is becoming very one-sided, Music Man.”

“I promise, it won’t be like that for much longer.” If Sawyer proved to be the performer Dean hoped he could be, the two of them would both be reaping the benefits of this relationship.

“There you go with those promises again. You said you don’t make those.”

This promise was different. This was one Dean was making to himself.

* * *

“GREAT, I’LL HAVE the tow truck drop the car off there as soon as they can get to it. Thanks again.” Dean hung up with the auto mechanic who’d agreed to assess the damage to his car once it was rescued from its watery jail. He was praying he didn’t have to trash it and get a new one.

Having done nothing but make call after call since getting out of the shower, he wandered down to the kitchen, hoping there were some cookies hiding somewhere. Faith had made herself scarce and maybe that was for the best.

He didn’t find any cookies, so he settled for a Coke to satisfy his sugar craving. There was only one more call to make and Dean dreaded it, hence the reason he had saved it for last. Scrolling through his contacts, he stopped when his thumb hovered over Boone’s name. He needed this man to cooperate. That usually meant Boone would try to be as uncooperative as possible. It was inevitable.

He pressed Call anyway. With each unanswered ring, Dean’s desire to drop Boone, regardless of the financial loss Grace Note would incur, increased tenfold. Boone finally answered on the fifth ring.

“Save your breath, Dean. I don’t have time to babysit your little princess. Find someone else.”

“Boone...” Dean tried turning on the charm even though he wanted to wring the guy’s neck through the phone. “Have I told you lately how much I respect your honesty?”

“I’m not collaborating with anyone right now. I’ve got nothing, absolutely nothing, to give. It’s like the music disappeared from my soul.”

Dean was thankful they weren’t having this conversation face-to-face. His eye roll would not have gone over well. “I hear you, buddy. I’m taking this seriously. I talked to someone who heard that there’s this place in California where Johnny Wilmett went to clear his head a few years ago when he was having similar issues. I’m still looking into it, but I think a retreat is exactly the kind of thing you need. Somewhere your soul can reconnect with the music. Know what I mean?”

A retreat that would include Piper Starling whether Boone liked it or not. He didn’t need to know that right now, though.

“I’m not so sure. I’m trying to get my visitation rights back and Sara is being such a...”

Divorce was a killer. Fear of ending up like Boone was one thing that kept Dean cynical about love. Better to choose to be alone than to be left that way.

“We don’t have to decide today. It doesn’t have to be California. Maybe I can find somewhere closer to Nashville. We’ll figure it out. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust that I’m on your side?”

“I’ll trust you when you get me invited back to the CAAs. But they better not seat me anywhere near Blake Keller.”

Dean didn’t want to know what Boone’s gripe was with Blake. That was his agent’s headache, not the label’s. The good news was that Boone had a goal Dean could help him move toward.

“I’ll work on it,” he said before adding, “Having a new album to promote would be a big help.”

Boone responded by hanging up.

Dean took a deep breath and let it go. Boone hadn’t agreed to anything, but he’d given Dean the right leverage. If being at the Country Artist Awards was important to Boone, he’d need new material for them to be interested in having him back after a less-than-stellar performance, an even more embarrassing attempt at presenting an award while intoxicated and a shoving match with an assistant producer a couple years ago. He’d have to cooperate and work with Piper. Maybe Dean could even get them a shot at performing a duet on the show.

A teenage girl waltzed through the back door like she owned the place. “Oh, my gosh! You scared me.” She held a hand against her chest. “Are you a volunteer? I told Faith I would be here. Did she not believe me?”

“I’m not—”

“I missed once. It’s not fair of her to act like I’m going to blow it off every time. She’s just like my mom,” the girl said with a groan.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean said, trying again to minimize the teenage angst. “I’m a family friend. I’m not volunteering for anything.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks pinked up. “Good. I knew Faith was cooler than my mom. Is she in here?”

“I think she’s outside with Sawyer.”

“Dean, could you—?” Faith came in from the front room and stopped short. “Lily, you’re here. I was starting to worry. Freddy will be here any minute.”

The teenager started rambling on about how she had slept over at a friend’s and how they had stayed up all night because the other girl cried about how this girl’s boyfriend was ruining their friendship. Then, when she got home this morning, she and her mom had fought.

Dean’s eyes began to glaze over.

“I thought you had this guy come because you didn’t trust me.” Lily nodded in Dean’s direction.

“I want to trust you, but you’ve been less than reliable lately. And this stuff with Kylie...”

“I won’t let it interfere with my volunteering. You know I love the horses and the kids. I want to be here. I do.”

Faith held out a hand and pulled Lily in for a hug. All was forgiven. “I hope you and Kylie make up. Never let a boy come between you and your best friend.” Faith let her go and her gaze fell on Dean. “No one knows better than me that there’s nothing worse than losing your best friend because of a boy who will probably break your heart anyway.”

* * *

“DID SOMEONE GET a haircut since the last time I saw him?” Faith asked Jason Green as he helped his eight-year-old son out of the car.

“He’s not happy about it. Told his mother he thought it made him look like a nerd.”

“It does,” Freddy said, gripping the handles of his walker. The white plastic braces on his legs had Nike symbols drawn on them with permanent marker. Cerebral palsy may have weakened his muscles but not his fashion sense.

“No way!” Faith helped get him on his feet. “You look very handsome. What do you think, Lily?”

Lily’s opinion would matter more to him than all the adults’ combined. Josie’s daughter was gorgeous and attentive. She had all the little kids completely enamored.

“I like it.” She crouched down so they were the same height and pulled out her phone. “Smile,” she said, taking a picture of the two of them. “I’ll post this to my Instagram and you’ll see how cool you are by how many likes we get.”

Freddy’s face lit up the way it did when he saw his favorite quarter horse, Winston. The girl wasn’t always reliable, but she had great instincts when it came to the kids, always knowing exactly what they needed to hear and relating to them one-on-one. She often reminded Faith of Addison.

They walked Freddy down to the stables and let him greet Winston there to do some grooming and stretching before heading to the covered arena. Someday, Faith hoped they’d be able to build an indoor arena to make it easier to give lessons year-round. Getting the accreditation from NETA, the National Equine Therapy Association, would help ease some of the burden and make it easier for potential clients to come to Helping Hooves because insurance would then defer some of the cost.

“All right, who’s ready to ride?” Faith asked once they were in the arena. Winston was saddled up and ready to go. The four-year-old bay gelding was as gentle as they came. He obeyed commands like a champ and walked more politely than any horse Faith had ever owned.

“Me!” Freddy shouted with his arm raised. Sawyer helped Freddy mount the horse while Lily adjusted Winston’s halter. Today, they were going to work on motor planning as well as posture control. Faith handed Freddy some plastic rings in an array of colors and explained that he would have to put the correct colored ring on various posts spread out around the arena.

Sawyer and Faith walked alongside as Lily held the lead rope and guided Winston though the course. Freddy struggled but was determined to complete the task.

“Next up, red,” Faith said. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Dean had ventured out and was catching up with Jason. She had forgotten they had both graduated from Grass Lake High the same year and would have known one another.

His presence made her uneasy. It was obvious he still held her responsible for what had happened all those years ago. He had good reason. Addison never would have gone to that party, never would have gotten in the car with someone like Aaron Evans, if she hadn’t found out her brother and her best friend had been sneaking around behind her back all summer.

Faith shouldn’t have told her the truth, but the secret had been eating away at her, at their relationship. She should have known Addison wouldn’t take the news well. Dean had warned her. By the time she had admitted to him that she had told, it was too late. Addison had already made the choice to get in the car, a choice that had ended her life.

“Last one, Freddy. You can do it.” Sawyer encouraged the little boy. Freddy would have to move the green ring from his right hand to his left and lift it up above the post so it would fit around it.

“I’m tired,” Freddy said, his head drooping forward.

“You’ve got this.” Faith put a hand on his lower back to remind him to straighten up.

Freddy fought through the fatigue and lifted the ring up and over the post. His dad cheered for him like he had hit a home run in Little League.

“I knew you could do it,” Faith said, patting his leg. Lily led the horse back to where Freddy would dismount.

“Great job today, bud.” Lily held up a hand for a high five. Even though he was exhausted, Freddy didn’t pass up the chance to celebrate with the lovely Lily. She took her phone out of her back pocket. “And look, thirty likes for that haircut while you were working. I bet we hit a hundred by the end of the day.”

Freddy’s smile was wide and proud. That haircut would never be thought of as nerdy again.

Jason brought over his son’s walker. “Come meet an old friend of mine, bud.” He introduced Freddy to Dean, who stuck out his hand to shake. Freddy gripped the handles of his walker tightly. He wasn’t going to be able to let go if he wanted to remain upright.

“I need Freddy to keep both hands on his walker until we get to the stables,” Faith said so the little boy felt like he shouldn’t—instead of couldn’t—let go.

“How did you get this guy to come back to Grass Lake?” Jason asked her as they returned to the stables.

“I had nothing to do with it. He only has his car to blame.”

Dean explained what had happened the night before, but quickly steered the conversation in another direction. He seemed more comfortable talking about Jason and what he’d been up to than himself.

“How amazing is this woman?” Jason said, putting an arm around Faith’s shoulders and pulling her against his side. “I owe everything to her and this place. When Freddy was four, he was wheelchair-bound. My wife and I weren’t sure we’d ever see him walk, but thankfully Faith suggested we come out and work with her dad and his horses. She’s the reason my son walks today.”

Faith wished the conversation hadn’t turned to singing her praises. Dean had no reason to do so.

“She’s always been pretty incredible,” Dean said with his gaze fixed on her burning face. “That’s why Addison loved her like a sister.”


CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_fae03329-3eb5-51db-a150-230a67a25075)

THERE WERE NO oven timers to wake Dean up Sunday morning. Instead of the sweet smells of baking cookies, it was dreams of Addison that had him up bright and early. He couldn’t even blame Faith. She had held to her promise and hadn’t uttered his sister’s name once since the muddy car ride.

Sunlight glinted off the aerial photograph of the farm that hung opposite the window. The rain had ended and the promise of some drier days lay ahead. Dean tried to focus on the possibility of retrieving his car instead of the painful memories of his sister. Getting out of Grass Lake was becoming more of a necessity than a simple desire.

He picked up his phone to call the towing company to check the status, but it rang instead. His mother was calling. Word must have gotten out. Thanks to his reunion with Jason Green yesterday, there was no way to stop the news of his return from spreading like wildfire. It had always been a matter of when his mother would find out, not if.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Imagine my surprise when I walked out my front door this morning to get the Sunday paper and Caroline Hughes tells me she hopes to see you at church today since you’re in town.”

“I was going to call you,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t believe him.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the Stratton farm. I ran into Faith and Sawyer at the Sundown after my car broke down.” Leaving out the fact that two days had passed since then seemed like a good idea.

“And you didn’t think to call me and your father? You decided to stay out there instead of coming here?” The hurt in her voice made him feel guiltier than he already did.

Dean rubbed his forehead in an attempt at easing the headache that was sure to stick around all day now. “I’m sorry, Mom. I planned to come see you today.”

“Good. I’ll be at church in an hour. I expect to see you there.”

Before Dean could tell her he really didn’t want to go to church, especially not the church he hadn’t set foot in since Addison’s funeral, she hung up.

Marilee Presley did not mess around when it came to going to church on Sundays. Dean and Addison had been taught early on that no excuse other than illness got them out of their religious obligation. It wasn’t until after Addison died that attending Sunday services started to seem pointless to Dean.

What kind of God let people like his sister die? Not one he wanted to pray to.

Having nothing to wear would have been a decent excuse, except his freshly laundered clothes sat on the coffee table. Faith was some kind of laundry fairy who delivered clean clothes while people slept. There wasn’t a trace of mud on any of them. His socks were whiter than he remembered them ever being. Not even his dry cleaner in Nashville was this good.

Faith came tiptoeing down the stairs and grimaced when she noticed he was up. “Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet while I got ready.”

She had avoided him all day and evening yesterday, even after he’d tried to make amends for his moodiness. Here she was still walking on eggshells around him.

“You didn’t wake me up. My mom called. She heard I was in town.”

“I swear I didn’t say anything to anyone,” she argued unnecessarily. Dean knew she wasn’t to blame.

Faith had always been honest and trustworthy, even as a child. She had been the good one while Addison had been wild. Whenever those two had been up to something, Dean’s mom only had to give Faith a look and the poor girl would spill her guts. It had driven Addison crazy, which was probably why she hadn’t taken the news that Faith had been lying to her that summer very well.

“It’s not like I’ve been hiding. Anyone could have seen me at the Sundown on Friday. I talked to the towing company and Dwight from the auto shop. I caught up with Jason yesterday. She was bound to find out sooner or later.”

Faith seemed to relax a bit and smoothed out some invisible wrinkles on the skirt of her pale yellow sundress. Her dark hair was down, loose curls falling over her shoulders. Her pink lips were glossed and those brown eyes needed no help drawing attention.

“I guess that means there’s no reason to sleep on our uncomfortable couch anymore.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. At least the dreams of Addison last night had been of her alive and well. He could only imagine the nightmares he’d have sleeping under his parents’ roof.

“Would it be a huge inconvenience to stay here on this perfectly comfortable couch, if that’s the way things played out?”

Sawyer came bounding down the steps in a shirt and tie, followed by Scout. The dog always seemed to be right on Sawyer’s heels. “The couch is yours, but it’s time to go shopping so my sister doesn’t have to do your laundry every night and my clothes can stay in my closet where they belong.”

Faith looked like she wanted to say something but bit her bottom lip instead.

“You two headed to church?”

“Well, we don’t dress like this to shoe the horses,” Sawyer said, checking his hair in the mirror above the couch. He had just the right amount of ego to become a star.

“Can I catch a ride with you? My mother may disown me if I don’t show up for Sunday services.”

“We leave in ten minutes,” Sawyer replied. “Faith likes to get there early.”

Always the good girl. Until she had fallen for him. No mistake had been bigger than giving in to his feelings for Faith. It had cost them both more than they were willing to lose.

* * *

“LET’S HOPE HIS mother won’t take no for an answer.” Faith’s arms were folded across her chest as they waited in Sawyer’s pickup for their guest. It had been fifteen minutes since Sawyer had said they needed to leave in ten.

“I don’t get why he won’t go home. What’s he hiding from?” Sawyer asked, honking the horn for the third time.

“Addison.” Faith’s voice broke a little.

“I don’t get that, either.”

“People grieve in different ways.” Faith scooted to the middle of the bench seat as Dean approached. No one in Grass Lake went to church in jeans, but at least his were clean and dry. His blond hair was finger-combed and his beard needed a trim, but the sight of him still made Faith’s heart skip a beat.

“I need to make a quick stop before church,” Sawyer said, backing out of the driveway. Faith was thankful her brother was taking credit for their detour. She didn’t want to have to explain where they were going or why.

“The longer the better,” Dean mumbled. His arm felt warm against hers even though she was trying her best not to make contact. Such a different story from twelve years ago when she couldn’t get close enough.

That last summer they’d spent together Dean had insisted Addison finally learn how to drive, and Faith had always tagged along. While Addison had been focused on the road, Dean would brush his fingers against Faith’s thigh or throw his arm over the back of the seat and play with her hair. It had been a dream come true to have his attention and affection, even though they’d had to be sneaky about it.

Faith didn’t dare mention those days or Addison’s horrendous driving skills. Dean had buried his memories along with his sister, and it was clear that was where he wanted them to stay.

Sawyer pulled into the spot in front of Harriet’s Flower Shop and Faith waited for him to climb out so she didn’t have to ask Dean to move. Nothing downtown was open on Sundays this early except the Cup and Spoon Diner. Some people needed their morning coffee before their day could really begin.

Iris Hackney and her son stepped out of the diner and spotted Faith. Mrs. Hackney had been Faith’s fifth-grade teacher. Her red hair was now gray, but she still wore pink glasses on the end of her pointy nose.

“Good morning, Miss Stratton!” She waved a gloved hand and pulled her son in Faith’s direction. Dressed in her Sunday’s best, Mrs. Hackney looked more like the wife of a politician than a former grade-school teacher. Her navy blue dress was paired with white gloves and a belt that cinched her thin waist.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hackney. Charles,” Faith said, nodding in his direction.

“I was just telling Charles we should give you a call. Wasn’t I, dear?”

Charles smiled sheepishly. With a round face like his father’s and red hair like his mother’s, many people forgot he wasn’t the Hackneys’ biological son. Mr. and Mrs. Hackney had adopted Charles as a baby when they were in their forties. He was the same age as Faith even though his parents were much older than hers.

“I heard that you have some experience sewing drapery, and Charles is in desperate need of some new window treatments. Would you be willing to help him out? I’ve chosen some lovely fabric, but I’ve never been very good on a sewing machine.”

If by experience she meant the one time Josie roped Faith into helping sew drapes for the high school drama club, then, yes, Faith had experience.

“My last clients weren’t very discriminating. I’m not sure I’m the kind of seamstress you’re looking for.” Faith had a difficult time coming out and saying no to people, but that didn’t stop her from hoping they would change their minds if she gave them an out.

“You did a wonderful job! Everyone raved about how beautiful and realistic the sets were for the fall play.”

Mrs. Hackney would not be changing her mind. For years the woman had been playing matchmaker for her son. He was a nice guy, but not someone who made the butterflies in Faith’s stomach come to life. Shouldn’t the man she was going to marry at least make her heart beat a little faster? Charles and his ho-hum personality were more likely to cause her to flatline.

Always the pleaser, Faith agreed to help and Mrs. Hackney was overjoyed. Charles shifted uncomfortably and said nothing. His mother suggested they talk after church to set up a time to meet and go over the design.

Faith glanced back at the pickup as the Hackneys got in their car. Sawyer gave her a thumbs-up and Dean was definitely smirking. Seeing him smile was almost worth the embarrassment.

The sign outside the flower shop clearly said Closed, but Faith knocked on the bright green door like she did every Sunday. The window boxes were filled to the brim with a beautiful mix of verbena, petunias and white snow mountains. It smelled like heaven.

Faith heard the lock slide open and was greeted by Harriet herself. “Good morning, Sugarplum. Come on in.”

Harriet Windsor had been Faith’s mother’s best friend. When their mom left, Harriet had stepped up and done her best to fill the hole she’d left in the kids’ lives. Her sage advice had been the only way Faith had survived puberty in a house with two clueless males. Sawyer still had the picture of the two of them in his room from when Harriet had gone as his date to the Boy Scouts’ Mother/Son Dinner and Dance.

“I set aside some arrangements I thought you might like, but go ahead and look around while I finish getting ready.” Harriet’s cheeks were rouged but her eyes and lips were bare. Not to mention, her caramel-colored hair wasn’t nearly big enough. There was still plenty of teasing and hair-spraying to be done.

Faith spent a minute poking around but settled on two of the bouquets Harriet had put together. She was the expert, after all. Faith found her upstairs in the bathroom of her small apartment above the shop.

“I’ll take the ones you picked out.”

Harriet smiled at her through the vanity mirror as she applied her mascara. “Good choice. How are you doing?”

Faith’s eyes fell to the baby blue tiled floor. “Fine.”

Harriet knew better. “Missing your daddy or stressed out about the return of one Mr. Dean Presley?”

“You heard, huh?”

“I’m sure half the town has heard by now. No one thought he’d ever come back here. Are you worried about seeing him at church?”

“He’s been staying at the farm,” Faith confessed.

Harriet set down her applicator brush. “He’s what? You’ve seen him already? Has he been nice to you?” She was the only person who knew how horribly things had ended between Faith and Dean. Faith had cried on her shoulder more times than she could count.

“It’s been awkward. It’s like nothing and everything’s changed since the last time I saw him. And he wants Sawyer.”

“What?”

“Dean wants him to come to Nashville with him to record some music. He heard him sing at the Sundown on Friday.”

“Sawyer wouldn’t leave you.”

“I know.” Faith swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat. “He’s not going to go. We have NETA coming to do the accreditation visit next weekend. Summer camps start in a month. He can’t go—I can’t do this without him.”

Harriet went back to her makeup. “You don’t need to worry about any of it. Everything is going to work out. You got two angels up in heaven looking out for you.”

Faith wanted to believe that. “Thanks again for the flowers.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Can I still count on you to help me out on Tuesday?”

Faith didn’t feel right taking the flowers for free and Harriet refused to take her money, so once or twice a month, Faith helped at the shop in exchange for the bouquets. This Tuesday was busier than usual, but Faith couldn’t say no.

“I’ll be here.” She started to go. “Sawyer and Dean are waiting for me. I’ll see you at church.”

“Hey,” Harriet said to get her attention one last time. “Don’t let him feed that guilt of yours. You understand me?”

Faith nodded and gave Harriet a reassuring smile even though deep down she knew it wasn’t possible. Dean had been home less than forty-eight hours and her guilt was back with a vengeance and a voracious hunger.


CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_662c198c-66f7-5734-a24f-aea8431c882c)

“IT’S FUNNY HOW this town can seem familiar and yet so foreign at the same time,” Dean observed as he and Sawyer waited for Faith.

“It’s not funny how long my sister takes when we need to be somewhere.”

“Be happy you have a sister to be annoyed with.”

Sawyer stopped complaining. Chagrined, he took a deep breath and apologized. Dean couldn’t be mad. He knew firsthand how easy it was to take people for granted.

Dean’s gaze drifted back down the street. He wasn’t surprised the bank where his father had worked for the last thirty years hadn’t changed. There was a new gas station on the corner. The old-fashioned gas pumps were a nice touch and made it look like it had been there forever. The movie theater had gotten a facelift and the sign above the hardware store was new. The barber shop where his mom had taken him to get his hair cut as a child had closed and a nail salon stood in its place.

“Here she comes,” Sawyer said, pulling Dean’s attention away from comparing this Main Street to the one in his memory.

Dean knew who the flowers were for the moment he saw Faith making her way to the truck with bouquets in her arms. A familiar unease settled in his stomach.

What could his mother really do to him if he didn’t show up for church? She had nothing to hold over him. She couldn’t ground him or take away his phone. He didn’t live under her roof or have to follow her rules. He was a grown man who could decide where he wanted or didn’t want to go.

He didn’t want to go to the church. He didn’t want to be within a hundred feet of the cemetery. Even sitting in the parking lot would be too close. He’d have to walk back to the farm. He didn’t care how far it was.

“Did you tell Harriet you couldn’t help her on Tuesday because you rescheduled Freddy’s therapy?” Sawyer asked his sister as he got out of the truck so she could get in.

“I don’t want to cancel on her. She asked me to enter the inventory information into the computer. I’ll run over there at lunchtime and get it done quick.”

Dean was again reminded of his sister. Addison had worked at the flower shop all through high school. She had wanted to become a botanist. Dean hated that she’d never got the chance to live out any of her dreams.

Sawyer groaned as he started up the truck. “You have a full day of therapy scheduled. All the horses have to be prepped.”

“I’ll be back in time to help with the horses,” Faith assured him.

“And you’re still going to go to Lily’s award ceremony, aren’t you?”

“I promised her. She got into National Honor Society. That’s a big deal.”

“Can you skip Bible study then?”

Faith looked down her nose at her brother. “You don’t skip Jesus, Sawyer.”

“You’re burning the candle at both ends, Faith.” He sounded sincerely worried about her.

Dean wondered how often she stretched herself so thin.

“I’ll be fine. As long as I have you to help me out.”

She relied on him, but Faith needed Sawyer more than he needed her. If he was going to get Sawyer to follow him to Nashville, Dean needed to find a way to break their co-dependent relationship.

The potent scent of the flowers started to make him nauseous as they drove to the church on the outskirts of town. There had been so many flowers at Addison’s funeral they had overwhelmed the small space. Dean remembered wanting to rip all the arrangements apart and crush every petal. A funeral wasn’t a joyous occasion no matter how it was dressed up. There was nothing to celebrate, and no sweet-smelling rose could make up for the hole in Dean’s heart.





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