by Duncan Leigh
Thoughtful, he rubbed a spot on his cheek. It wasn’t his place to tell her how to run her ranch. “So you stayed in Mill Town.” Ignoring his doubts for the moment, he focused on the woman in front of him. He was enjoying this, the two of them getting to know each other again. It made a nice change of pace to talk to another person without the press or paparazzi or the crazed fans who lately had followed him everywhere he went.
“I stayed in Mill Town,” she echoed. “Or rather, I came back to it.”
“Why?” Bradley let his gaze follow the road that led into a town that hadn’t changed a bit in all the years he’d been away.
“Why not?” Sarah loosened the rope halter and slipped it over the horse’s head.
He could name a dozen good reasons for moving someplace else, starting with the need for a decent cup of coffee. Mill Town certainly wasn’t Nashville, where there was practically a Starbucks on every corner. But he guessed Sarah had her own reasons for sticking around. Maybe she’d met someone, started a family of her own. “You married? Have kids?”
“Nope. Not yet.” Sarah’s mouth drooped into a self-deprecating grimace as she turned the horse out and closed the gate. “I went to veterinary school. And then got busy with the ranch. Guess I just forgot to get married and have children.” The sweet music of her laughter filled the air when she tugged on her hat brim.
“Well, Dr. Sarah Standor.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m glad I had the good sense to marry you when I did.”
“That was a no-brainer,” Sarah scoffed. Her gaze on a loose fence board, she added, “It was clear I was going to be very successful.”
He eyed the slim brunette. Behind that heart-shaped face and those clear brown eyes, Sarah’s sharp intelligence gleamed. Add in her work-honed figure, and he bet she could have her pick of the single guys in the county. So why hadn’t she married, settled down, found someone who’d shoulder some of the work around here? He shrugged. It really wasn’t any of his business.
“You know, Adam’s still in town, too.”
Adam? The kid who’d married him and Sarah had settled down here, too? At his stunned look, Sarah nodded. The news required a comment, and he quipped, “The three musketeers, back together again.” Too bad he wasn’t going to stick around long enough for a reunion of the old gang. He’d have liked that.
“Um.” Sarah hesitated a second before she stared up at him. “How about your fiancée? Is she in town?” Her face colored slightly. “I’m a big fan. I’d love to meet her.”
“Nah. She’s—she’s filming in Los Angeles.” A hectic shooting schedule would keep Catherine on the set until the day before their wedding, not that he owed anyone—not even Sarah—an explanation for her absence. “I just wanted to slip into town to handle some business and slip out without any fuss.”
Sarah’s focus drifted to a spot behind him. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“And why’s that?”
“Just, uh…” Sarah’s hand on his shoulder turned him to face his childhood home. Cars and trucks littered the hillside like building blocks. Twenty or thirty people milled about on his parents’ front yard.
“Whoa!” He instinctively stepped behind the nearest tree. “I didn’t know they had paparazzi in Mill Town.”
“Oh, they don’t.” Sarah laughed. “Those are just fans.”
Just fans, huh? Prowling about his house as if they owned the place?
Some of his doubt must have shown on his face, because Sarah popped him on the arm. “C’mon. I’ll help you.” When he remained hidden behind the tree, she beckoned once more. “Come on,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. Without waiting to see if he’d follow, she tossed a question over one shoulder on her way across the yard. “You remember how to ride a horse?”
“Well, it’s been a while, but I think so,” he admitted as he trotted across the open space between the fence and the barn while the gathering crowd around his house pointed cameras in their direction. “Why?”
Once they stepped inside the darkened barn, where they were out of the sight of his eager fans, Sarah made quick work of saddling two horses. When she handed him a set of reins and told him to mount up, he swallowed, hard. For the last decade, he’d concentrated on getting his career off the ground. There hadn’t been time for much of anything else. He hadn’t so much as stepped foot on a ranch since he left Mill Town. Then again, he didn’t have many options here. He could either spend what was left of the afternoon posing for pictures and signing autographs or ride with Sarah. He opted for the latter.
Leather creaked and dipped when he stuck one foot in the stirrup. Feeling ten kinds of awkward, he tightened his grip on the pommel and hoisted himself aboard. The instant his seat grazed the saddle, the gelding ambled out the barn door behind Sarah and her ride. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as they stepped into the sunlight. From where he sat, the ground looked awfully far away. To add to his misery, his horse obviously had a mind of its own.
“C’mon, now,” he coaxed. He put more muscle into his grip on the reins. While Sarah led the way between the barn and a silo, the silly beast she’d given him ignored his firm tug. “No, no,” he corrected when the animal balked at following Sarah’s lead up a gentle hill. “Over here.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle,” she called. Laughter made her voice shake. “You never forget.” She tapped her heels, and her well-behaved mount broke into a ground-eating trot.
Beneath him, his horse’s muscles bunched. The next thing he knew, he was holding on for dear life and crying, “Whoa, whoa!” while he bounced in the saddle. But he stuck with it. After all, what choice did he have? He couldn’t jump off, not unless he wanted to end up with a broken leg, or worse. He struggled to recall everything he’d ever learned about horseback riding and, by the time they’d gone a half mile, he felt like he just might make it back to the barn without falling off and breaking his neck.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sarah asked as they threaded their way through a copse of trees at the far end of the pasture.
He risked lifting his eyes off a white-knuckled grip on the reins long enough to study his surroundings. Beneath clear, blue skies, birds chirped from overhead branches. Butterflies flitted among the spring flowers and ferns that grew at the base of mature oaks and maple trees. Sarah was right. The peaceful little clearing held a special appeal. One that felt more than a little familiar.
“Hey, it’s our old fort,” he said, spying an aging structure in the distance. “You know, I’d forgotten all about this place. Me, you, and Adam built this when we were, like, eleven?”
“Um-hmmm.” Sarah reined her horse to a stop beside a shack built of materials they’d scrounged from trash bins and the burn pile. “It’s been a doll house. It’s been a play house. A girls-only club. A boys-only fort.”
When he was a kid, he’d climbed the steps to rescue the fair maiden Sarah with Adam hot on his heels. In his memory, their fortress was a castle, all brick and mortar and moats. Now, he studied the thick layer of pine needles and branches that covered a warped tin roof. Below it, the nails anchoring one of the 2x4s in place had worked loose. The fallen board gave their old fort a crooked smile. Remnants of the curtains they’d fashioned out of old sheets flapped in windows that had never known a pane of glass. He shook his head. “Simpler times.”
“Yep.” Sarah ran one hand down her horse’s neck. “You know, you asked me why I stayed in Mill Town. Well, that’s why I stayed. I stayed for the simpler times.”
“Right.” Good for her. She’d found her niche. He hoped she was as happy with the life she’d chosen as he was with the hustle and bustle that came with living in the spotlight. Not that there was anything wrong with a little peace and quiet, but if he had to exist on a steady diet of it, he might lose his mind.
Each with their own thoughts, they rode in silence f
or the next hour before Sarah announced that it was probably safe to head back. No matter how much the residents of Mill Town wanted to see their favorite son, she explained, it was nearly supper time, and there were tables to set and meals to prepare. Bradley fought down an urge to argue. In Nashville and L.A., he rarely ate dinner before nine or ten, but Sarah lived here. She knew the habits and customs of the area far better than he did. Sure enough, when he stepped outside the barn after they’d cared for the horses, a single quick glance at his house confirmed that his fans had departed to their own homes and families.
On his way to the gate, he paused. Sarah could have left him to fend for himself this afternoon, but she’d gone out of her way to help him out. He really ought to thank her. “I was thinking maybe we could do lunch. Catch up.”
“Do lunch?” The laughter that rang through the yard let him know just what she thought about the phrase.
“It’s just an expression.” Hating the need to defend himself, he shrugged. He might have been born here. Under different circumstances, he might have been content here. But he’d changed. Mill Town was a round hole while he’d shaped his life into a square peg. They no longer fit together.
The petite brunette pinned him with a shrewd, appraising glance. “Well, right now, lunch for me is a sandwich in one hand, and a hammer in the other.” She pointed to a sagging rail in a pen that would probably collapse in the next storm. “I’ve got about a mile of this fence that needs mending.”
“Well, you’ve got fences to mend, and I’m months late delivering a new album.” They both had their fair share of troubles, didn’t they? “But I think we can spare an hour to catch up. What do you say?”
“Okay.” Sarah stopped at an ancient mailbox that stood at the entrance to her ranch. “Meet me here tomorrow. Ten AM. We’ll go get Adam. And we will do lunch.”
“Sounds great.” Though ten sounded like an awfully early start, he could handle it. Especially since it meant he’d have the rest of the afternoon to work on the melody that had been playing through his head since he’d stepped into his mom’s kitchen earlier today. “See you then.”
While Sarah retrieved the day’s mail, he headed toward the gate. He’d almost reached it when he heard her call, “Welcome home, Brad-Bird.”
He shook his head. “It’s not my home anymore.” He’d moved on, outgrown both the town and his broken heart. “But thanks.”
That evening, after she’d washed, dried, and put away the supper dishes, Sarah carried her coffee mug out onto the back porch. Music drifted down the hill from the Suttons’ old place. Leaning against a porch railing, she stopped to listen. Bradley must have found his dad’s guitar. He’d been tinkering with it all evening and had finally coaxed a familiar melody from the old box. She joined in as he sang about a man who’d been saved from the depths of despair by a song. Draining the last of her coffee, she smiled to herself. If that wasn’t the story of Bradley’s life, she didn’t know what was.
Tomorrow ought to be interesting. Maybe she should have filled Bradley in on the plans, but it’d be fun to catch him off guard and get him out of his element. She had a feeling, what with the heavy demands of stardom and all, that he didn’t have a chance to kick back, be himself very often. It’d be good for him to relax, have a few laughs. Honestly, she could use a little of that herself. In fact, if Bradley had planned to be in town much longer, she wouldn’t mind carving an hour here or there from her schedule to spend with him.
And Adam, too. She mustn’t forget him. The three of them had sure had some good times when they’d been kids. Now that they were all grown up and all, it might have been nice to hang out together.
She looked toward Bradley’s house. It really was a shame that he only planned to stick around for a day or two.
Chapter Four
Bradley braced one hand on the dashboard when Sarah slammed on the brakes on one of Mill Town’s side streets. The battered old pickup jerked to a stop in front of a white picket fence, wheels at the curb. Before he unsnapped his seatbelt, Sarah had already slid from the driver’s seat, slammed the truck’s door, and made it halfway across the street. He hurried to catch up with her.
“We’re late,” she called without breaking her stride.
Bradley ran a hand through his hair. What was going on? Sarah had been prodding him to move faster ever since his feet had struck her front stoop this morning. Yeah, sure, he’d been a few minutes late, but what was the hurry? They were getting an awfully early start on the lunch rush, weren’t they? Or had she made reservations at some five-star restaurant in the city?
At that thought, his mouth watered almost painfully. It had been a while since he’d had to cook for himself. As a result, dinner last night hadn’t been anything to write a song about. The burger he’d attempted to fry had ended up raw in the middle, charred on the outside, fit only for the trash can. But an upscale restaurant offered possibilities. He could sink his teeth into a nice, juicy steak. Or chicken. As long as someone else prepared it, he could go for chicken. He picked up his pace, hurrying to get close enough to ask where they were headed.
“C’mon.” Sarah reached a row of parked cars on the other side of the street and gave him a once-over that reminded him of the way his mom used to examine him before they’d left for Sunday School. “Nice shoes.”
“They’re Italian.” The handcrafted boots probably cost more than her truck.
Clearly unimpressed, she quipped, “They got cowboys in Italy?”
“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” he confessed. Ever since he’d signed with the recording company, someone else had consulted his schedule and laid out clothing to fit the occasion. Not that he wasn’t fully capable of managing his own wardrobe, but Sarah had been strangely close-mouthed about today’s final destination.
“Well, you look real good.” She trotted up a flight of cement steps to a building that was definitely not the restaurant he’d been hoping for.
“Thanks.” At the landing, he tugged open a heavy wooden door and held it for her.
Inside, Bradley fought an urge to scratch his head while he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light that filtered through stained-glass windows. White marble glistened from a baptismal font in a nearby alcove. Red carpet led to rows of wooden pews filled with people who listened attentively to the sermon of the day. No wonder Sarah had been in such a tizzy over getting here on time. She should have warned him that she was taking him to church. But what had happened to their plan to meet up with an old friend and have lunch?
“And when we say, do unto others as we would have them do unto us,” intoned the minister from behind a wooden pulpit, “we mean more than just follow the commandments. We need to treat others with kindness. And with generosity of spirit.”
As he followed Sarah down the aisle, he nodded his apologies to the speaker. His footsteps faltered just as the preacher’s voice trailed off.
Adam?
From the bemused look on his friend’s face, Sarah had managed to pull one over on both of them. Bradley sank down beside her on the pew.
At the front of the room, Adam cleared his throat. “Just ask yourself for one moment,” he continued, “how would I like to be treated? What must it be like, to be in that other person’s situation?”
Behind Bradley, whispers rippled through the rows of pews. He grimaced and squared his shoulders. From the little he’d heard, it sounded as if his old friend had become a pretty good preacher. He’d hate it if his presence caused a distraction. Resting his back against the hard wooden seat, he decided to set a good example by listening to the sermon. He hoped everyone else would do the same.
Thirty minutes later, he followed the rest of the congregation from the dimly lit church into the bright sunshine. On the concrete landing beyond the heavy doors, he shook Adam’s hand.
“Whew!” Adam exclaimed. “I never thought I’d see you back h
ere.”
Adam wasn’t the only one, Bradley acknowledged with a half smile. He hooked his thumbs over his belt. “I like what you said in there.”
“Thanks.” Adam gave an amused cough. “But, I should tell you, I got it out of a book, so it’s not totally original.”
Bradley’s smile widened. It was nice to know the ministry hadn’t robbed his friend of a sense of humor. “So, lunch?” he asked, refusing to acknowledge the two women who pointed and grinned as they edged past Adam. “You know, I’m really craving sushi.”
“Good! ’Cause where we’re going”—Sarah and Adam shared a conspiratorial look—“it’s about the only thing they got on the menu.”
Bradley canted his head. He’d only been in town one day, but he’d already learned to recognize the twinkle that appeared in Sarah’s eyes whenever she thought he’d said or done something remarkably dumb. So, where had he gone wrong this time?
The answer to his question came when Sarah braked the old pickup truck to a stop alongside the river instead of in front of an upscale restaurant. Less than an hour later, wearing waders and boots he’d borrowed from Adam, Bradley flipped the bail on the reel Sarah had handed him. Her sassy smile had deepened as she’d informed him that if he wanted sushi for lunch, he’d best get his line wet. As for her and Adam, though, they liked their fish dipped in cornmeal and fried, thank you very much.
He grinned. The sun on his back, the cool water around his knees, the gurgle and ripple of the water passing over the streambed—it all felt like heaven. And even though there hadn’t been a single tug at the end of his line, he had to admit he hadn’t felt such absolute contentment in a long time. It had been a while since he’d been able to relax around friends who didn’t take themselves, or him, too seriously.
“This is real nice.” He tossed his line into the current and reeled in as the lure floated back to him.