Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Can. Not. Go there.
“Your jet,” Quinn says, following the path as it swerves around a giant cactus. “It was so fancy. Was Tom Cruise your pilot? And was he the one who finally convinced you to grace us with your presence in Hartsville?”
Despite the jab, I laugh. “Tom was booked, unfortunately.”
“Bummer.”
“Something about a machine that makes masks and saving the world. He’s a busy dude.”
She stops and gives me a meaningful look. “You know I’m just kidding, right? Because I totally get why you haven’t been back—”
“I know.” I reach over, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I know you know, Quinn.”
Quinn and Grady have visited me a bunch after I left Hartsville six years ago to pursue my dream of becoming a country singer and songwriter. They bravely couch surfed at my dank apartment in Nashville when I was just getting started. More recently, I’ll fly them out to meet me at some of the more glamorous stops on my tour, like Jackson Hole and Miami.
Same goes for my parents. But everyone else in Hartsville? I haven’t seen them since I left. Feels like a lifetime ago.
“And you sure you’re okay with this?” Quinn tilts her head, an indent appearing between her eyebrows. We’ve had this conversation countless times already on the phone, and she’s heard my answer.
I assure her it hasn’t changed. “Okay with getting your ass hitched? Yes, honey. It’s about damn time.”
“No shit.”
We both laugh at that. Grady and Quinn have been dating off and on since high school. A few months back, Grady popped the question with our grandmother’s diamond-and-emerald ring. Now here we are, gearing up for their wedding on Saturday. Quinn asked me to fly in today, Thursday, to help with all the preparations. I said yes without hesitation. I’d walk through fire if it meant showing up for these people.
Thing is, seeing Weston Jessup again kinda feels like being burned alive. I’m burning up with anxiety.
“God, I’ve missed you.” I loop my arm around her neck and pull her in for a hug, inhaling the cedary scent of Quinn’s hair and skin. She’s been in the stables today, I can tell.
I’m tired as all get-out from months of shitty sleep, but I still can’t wait to ride. I’ve been treated to time on horseback in some pretty fabulous places lately—a cliffside beach in California, the Tetons, Tim McGraw’s Tennessee farm—but nothing compares to being in the saddle in the place I grew up.
“I’ve missed you more.” Quinn presses a kiss to my cheek. “I’m so, so happy you’re here.”
“Next time I’ll bring Tom.”
“You’d better. Ask him to bring that little funny guy with him—the one from Mission Impossible. Bet he’s a hoot in real life too.”
We keep walking until the path opens up onto a large clearing shaded by soaring oaks with huge, gnarled branches that nearly touch the ground in some places. There’s a sharp drop-off twenty or so feet ahead, where a canyon plunges into the river.
The clearing is crowded with people and coolers of every shape and size. Everyone is barefoot, sweating cans of beer in their hands. A woman I recognize as Tallulah, the owner of Hartsville’s one and only dive bar, the Rattler, clutches the rope and takes a running leap over the canyon, hollering with delight as she drops into the water.
I smile as I glimpse several familiar faces. Cousins. Classmates. Grady spots me and throws up his arms.
“Josie! Hey, cowgirl!” He makes a beeline for us.
My brother looks handsome as always in his T-shirt and swim trunks, a big old smile on his face as he wraps me in a hug. “How’s the Top Female Vocalist of the Year doing?”
I’m so happy to see him, hug him, that for a second I think I’m going to cry. “Great. So great. How’s Hartsville’s top heavy equipment salesman?”
Grady sells farm machinery to ranchers across central Texas. He inherited the business from our grandfather, who passed right before I moved to Tennessee.
“Sexiest gig on earth. So of course he’s happy.” He pulls back, and I see the joy glimmering in his brown eyes. “And very, very grateful that you came all this way.”
“Wouldn’t miss this weekend for the world.”
Grady reaches for Quinn and drapes an arm across her shoulders, pulling her against him. “And how’re you, bride-to-be?” He leans down to peck her lips.
“She’s happy too,” Quinn replies.
He nods at a nearby cooler. “Can I get y’all a Shiner?”
“Yes,” I breathe. I’m afraid to look up from our little trio. My blood buzzes with an awareness that can only mean one thing.
Oh God oh God he’s close.
When Wes and I first broke up, Grady offered to kick his ass to the curb even though they’d become close too. But I wasn’t about to cause him the same hurt I was feeling at the time. I lied to Grady, telling him the breakup was mutual. I didn’t plan on returning home anyway, so why did I care if they remained friends?