by Duncan Leigh
“Well, that sounds real romantic.” There’d been a time when he’d believed in knights in shining armor who rescued the fair maidens and lived happily ever after. His parents’ deaths had put an end to such flights of fancy. “But not very realistic.” He’d learned from that harsh lesson.
“I agree, it is rare.” Sarah grabbed her tool belt from the back of the truck. Lost in thought, she added, “Plus, you only get one shot at it. And even then, you’ve got to be in the right place to recognize it. And choose it. And fight for it.” Wrapping the thick leather strap around her, she snagged the belt tight.
“So this, uh, magical relationship.” He stood. “It only happens once in a lifetime?”
“Yep.”
“And you got to be in the right place. At the right time. Or you miss it?” No wonder Sarah hadn’t found her Prince Charming. Even she had to realize how badly the odds were stacked against her.
“Yep.”
He cinched his own tool belt around his waist and grabbed his gloves. “I think you’ve read too many romance novels.” What Sarah was describing only existed in books and sappy country songs.
“Maybe.” Sarah shook her head as she walked away. “But I’m not gonna settle for less.”
Bradley slipped his fingers into the pair of heavy-duty gloves he’d picked up at the hardware store on their excursion into town the day before. “Well, I hope you get your happily ever after,” he said while Sarah wrestled a rotted slat out of the fence. “You deserve it.”
Even without the full moon to light his path, Bradley could have followed the tantalizing odor of food cooking over an open fire. Through the trees, he spotted Sarah kneeling at the edge of a campfire.
“Now why’d you bring me all the way out here?” he asked when he got close enough.
“Well.” Sarah finished adjusting what looked like fresh-caught trout on a spit. “You’ve been working so hard, I thought we’d take a night off and go to the movies.”
“The movies?” He peered into the darkness. Bushes and trees surrounded them. Here and there, rocks jutted out of the earth, but none of them were big enough for a movie screen. Besides, no extension cord could possibly reach from here to the house. What kind of show could they watch without a projector?
“Cowboy style,” she added, as if that detail explained anything. Using a rock for a pillow, Sarah stretched out on the ground. “Lie back.”
“All right.” If Sarah wanted to pretend to watch movies, he’d play along. The Stetson he swept from his head gleamed white as the moon in the night air. To keep it clean, he anchored the hat on his chest while he propped his shoulders against a small boulder.
“This is one of my favorites.” Staring up, Sarah squirmed just enough to get comfortable. “It stars the Big and Little Dipper in one of their best adventures.”
Tipping his head to the sky, Bradley let the tension of the last few days flow off his shoulders. Majestic pines pointed upward where, against the inky backdrop, tiny pinpoints of light shone brightly. In an instant he was awash in memories of summer nights when he and Sarah and Adam had camped out under the stars in the backyard. “I love this movie. I remember watching it when I was a kid.”
“This is the sequel.”
He laughed at Sarah’s dry delivery. That was one thing he really liked about her, he thought as he stared up at the sky. She seemed to find the humor in everything. Take this afternoon when he’d tackled the massive job of cleaning out the barn for the wedding. There hadn’t been anything fun about toting bales of hay, sweeping, and washing the floors. But then, Sarah had doused him with her hose, a move that had led to an epic water fight that had raged off and on while they’d laughed and scoured the barn from the rafters to the floorboards. Under normal circumstances, all that hard, sweaty work would have been sheer drudgery. But Sarah had turned it into the most fun he’d had in ages. He’d have to remember to thank her for it before he left town.
When a few clouds scuttled across the sky and hid the stars, Sarah rose to check on the fish roasting over the fire. After adjusting the spit, she turned to face him. The flickering flames cast a rosy glow on her cheeks. “You know, I’ve been listening to you play your new songs at night. They sound real good. They remind me a lot of the ones you wrote when you were first startin’ out. You know, take you on a journey. Make you feel somethin’.” As if she thought she’d said too much, she poked at the embers with a stick.
Bradley blinked slowly. Until he’d come home to Mill Town, he’d failed so miserably at creating the meaningless but upbeat songs the record executives wanted that he’d started questioning his ability ever write a good song again. But Sarah’s praise could mean that he was back on track. “You really think so?” Leaning forward, he held his breath, waiting for an answer.
“Well, why would I say it if it wasn’t true?” Sarah crossed one arm over the other and stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
He sighed. He’d spent so much time in Nashville and Los Angeles, he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to hang out with someone who made honesty and directness two of their watchwords. “The world I live in is full of people who tell me what they think I want to hear.” His agent, the record executives, his assistant, even Catherine—they peppered him with praise. Even when, a lot of the time, he knew he didn’t deserve it.
“Well, I’ll never do that.”
“Good.” The earnestness that shone in Sarah’s eyes made a refreshing change from his life in the city. He pulled himself into a sitting position and centered the Stetson on his head.
Sarah leaned in close enough to whisper. “So, can I tell you something? Truthfully?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“That hat.” The corners of her lips pulled her mouth into a frown.
Uh-oh. Whatever Sarah had to say about the expensive Stetson, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it. He groaned and braced for the worst. “What about it?”
“Well, you think it makes you look like a cowboy, but…” Sarah’s voice trailed off.
“I love this hat, okay? It’s new.” He heard the defensive note in his tone and tamped it down. “My manager, Hank, sent it to me for my tour.”
“Well, that’s your problem. A real cowboy would never wear a new hat.” Sarah snatched the offensive object from his head. Her movements quick and sure, she smashed the crown into the dirt.
“Hey! What are you doing?” he asked, although the answer seemed perfectly clear.
She kept smashing and grinding it into the ground. When she finally finished, sand rained down on his shirt as she plopped the considerably darker, misshapen hat on his head with a self-satisfied, “There. That’s better.”
“Oh, man.” Maybe he should rethink that whole honesty thing. Almost afraid to look at what she’d done, he took the ruined Stetson from his head. Dark smudges marred the once-pristine felt. The smooth brim had been transformed into a wavy line. Although his agent would probably have a conniption, he had to admit, Sarah’s modifications gave the hat character.
Chapter Nine
Armed with a list of stops to make and supplies to gather for the wedding, Bradley scanned Mill Town’s Main Street through the passenger window of Sarah’s truck. The awnings that offered protection from snow and sleet over the long winters now shaded weekday shoppers from bright sunshine. Birds billed and cooed from nests in the mature trees that lined the town’s sidewalks. Enjoying the warm weather, customers slowly browsed through Mom-and-Pop shops that offered everything from dresses to kitchen supplies. Pickup trucks and late-model sedans filled most of the slant-in parking spots. Something about the decided lack of limos and Town Cars put a spring in his step as he bounded from the front seat. He gave a contented sigh and glanced at the woman who rounded the front bumper. “You know, this was a good place to grow up.”
“Well, I’m glad you remember that.” The heels of her dress boot
s tapped sharply on the asphalt. Sarah paused to stare down a passerby who’d stopped to gape at them. When the other person moved on, the hem of her skirt fluttered about her knees as she strode briskly across the street. “Have you and Catherine talked about where you want to settle down and raise your children?”
Bradley tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Whenever he was with Catherine, they were usually surrounded by people—her agent or his, their assistants, the paparazzi. And that was before his bride-to-be had announced their engagement on national TV. Since then, they hadn’t had a moment’s privacy. They certainly hadn’t had a chance to make long-term plans. “I don’t know if Catherine wants to have children.”
“Do you?”
“Sure.” Aware that people were stopping to stare and a few had aimed cell phones in his direction, he kept his answer short and to the point. But, yeah, he’d dreamed of having a family for almost as long as he could remember. A little boy with a crooked smile. Or a girl with wavy brown curls.
“Wait. What?” A mix of confusion and doubt played across the face that stared up at him. “You’re getting married, but you haven’t discussed whether you want a family?” Sarah tsked. “Celebrities are an odd breed.”
“I am not a celebrity.” Stardom was more Catherine’s thing. Sure, he’d dreamed of the day when eager fans would snap up tickets to his concerts so fast they’d sell out in one day, or when journalists and reporters would seek him out. But now that the accolades and awards poured in, more and more he relished times like these when he could just be himself.
“Yes, clearly.” Sarah gestured toward the faces of the other shoppers who were failing miserably at pretending not to stare.
Bradley painted a canned smile on his face. His appearance in town had attracted some attention, but he’d learned a few tricks from Catherine about handling nosy fans. He and Sarah would just have to duck into a store for a while, and people would quickly lose interest. He swept the area for a likely spot. His gaze caught on a sign for Stucky’s Candy and Ice Cream. “I love this place,” he announced. Squaring around to face Sarah, he recalled the countless times they’d ridden their bikes into town for ice cream on hot summer afternoons. “Mint chip, right?”
“Very good.”
The way her lips parted told him how surprised she was that he’d recalled her favorite flavor. He grabbed her hand and hustled her down the street. Hand in hand, they dashed into a storefront so narrow, it barely provided enough room for two in front of the display case that ran the length of the tiny store. Once they’d crossed the threshold, he firmly shut the door while, on the sidewalk outside, a few determined souls called for autographs and pictures. But by the time they emerged with their cones a scant fifteen minutes later, he and Sarah had the sidewalk to themselves. He made a note to thank Catherine for showing him the trick next time they spoke and turned his attention to the rich blend of hand-churned ice cream that was every bit as good as he remembered from his childhood.
“Our next stop is Mill Town Bridal,” Sarah announced between bites of green mint dotted with chunks of dark chocolate. “How many guests are you thinking of having?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” He took another swipe at his cone while he reviewed the list of people he saw on a daily basis when he was at home in Nashville. He wasn’t close enough to any of them to actually invite them to his wedding. “I work with a lot of people, but I don’t have a lot of time to socialize.” He hated the pitying look the comment earned him but shrugged it aside. Friendships took time to develop, and time was always in short supply.
At the bridal shop, Sarah lingered in front of the window, where a mannequin was decked out in a confection of lace and chiffon. Her eyes shimmered. “I bet she’s got some fancy designer making her a gown,” she said, her voice wistful.
“You’re probably right.” Though he’d repeatedly asked Catherine to keep the fuss for their wedding down to a minimum, he doubted she’d buy a dress off the rack. His bride-to-be probably wouldn’t even glance at the price tag on the gown she’d only wear for a few hours.
Slowly, he licked his ice cream. He had to admit that Sarah was right about something else, too—the next time he saw Catherine, they needed to have a serious talk…about so many things. Children. Where they’d live. How they’d handle finances. Thanks to his recent success, he’d never have to worry about money again for the rest of his life, but he’d scrimped and scraped through enough lean years that he didn’t enjoy tossing his money away willy-nilly. That was another thing he shared in common with Sarah.
He squeezed his eyes tight while tiny doubts nibbled at his thoughts. In the days he’d been away from L.A., he’d stayed so busy that he hadn’t missed Catherine. At least, not nearly as much as he thought he would. Or should. Of course, planning their wedding took up a lot of his time, but he couldn’t help but wonder if doing something for someone was as important as spending time with them. What if, when they did finally get together, he and Catherine couldn’t resolve their differences?
He shook the idea right out of his head. He and his fiancée had the same dreams, the same goals. They respected one another. They’d make their marriage work. He swallowed, and the last cold bit of cream cooled the back of his throat.
“C’mon.” Sarah’s warm smile broke into his reverie with a reminder that they’d come to town today on a mission. She tugged on the crook of his arm. “Let’s get you a tuxedo.”
“All right.”
He supposed it wasn’t every day that a Grammy winner walked into the Mill Town Bridal Store. Within minutes, he stood on a raised platform in front of a three-way mirror while a star-struck sales clerk smoothed a tiny wrinkle from the best tux in the house. Bradley ran a hand down the pleated shirt and straightened the bow tie. The black wool number definitely fit the bill for a country wedding in a barn on the outskirts of town.
From beyond the edge of the mirror, Sarah chimed, “Well, you are going to make a very fancy groom.”
The outfit wasn’t bad, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d overlooked something. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he said to the clerk. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“You know, you’re right.” Sarah pointed a finger. “Something is missing.” She stepped down from the raised platform and crossed to a hat rack near the cash register. Returning quickly, she plopped a black cowboy hat on his head. “There. Now, you’re all set.”
Bradley adjusted the brim to a rakish angle that added the perfect dash of spice to the outfit. “Oh, yeah.” He slipped the jacket’s single button through its hole. “Now I feel good,” he announced. Wearing a wide grin, he gave Sarah a mock salute and enjoyed the sound of her laughter.
As much as Sarah hated to admit it, seeing Bradley in a tux turned a flock of butterflies loose in her chest. She steeled herself against the feeling. Star or no star, she had no business going all gooey-eyed over the man. Bradley wasn’t the kid next door anymore. While she struggled to hold on to her family’s ranch, he’d grown up and moved on. He’d overcome major hurdles that would have destroyed anyone who had less drive or talent and was fast on his way to becoming a legend in the country music industry. If all that wasn’t enough to keep them apart, in less than two weeks, he’d marry Catherine Mann.
Although, if she had to put her finger on the problem, that was it, wasn’t it? How could he marry someone he knew so little about? He didn’t even know his fiancée’s favorite flower. Yet he’d recalled her own love for mint chocolate, and they hadn’t been around each other for a very long time. Of course, he said Catherine never ate dessert, so maybe she’d never mentioned her allergy to coconut, just like she’d never told him if she preferred chocolate over strawberry, lemon over lime.
But…children. How could he be completely in the dark over whether or not Catherine wanted children? Or, if she did, where she wanted to settle down to raise them? Sarah had never known
anyone who considered themselves in love enough to get married but didn’t know anything about the person they’d spend the rest of their lives with.
It certainly didn’t sound as if Catherine and Bradley had the forever kind of love she insisted on finding before she tied the knot. Then again, she guessed that was his business.
Just like it was her business to support him no matter what. ‘Cause that was what friends did for one another.
“Do you have your dress yet?”
Sarah tore her gaze from Bradley to face the saleswoman who’d walked up behind her. Her cheeks warming, she stared into the face of a kindly looking matron. “Oh, no. No. I’m just—”
“Don’t say another word,” commanded the woman, whose French twist was as much a part of her working uniform as the white gloves she wore when she handled the bridal gowns. “I have the perfect dress for you.”
“Well, I—” Sarah cast a pleading look at Bradley, but the man and the tailor were deep into a discussion of cuff versus no cuff. No help there. Not wanting to appear rude, she surrendered to the clerk’s insistent tug on her arm.
Besides, she reasoned, why not take advantage of the opportunity to try on a dress or two? With no boyfriend in sight—much less a fiancé—she might never get the chance again.
As she stepped into the dressing area, her gaze narrowed in on the single gown the saleswoman had hung from a hook in a curtained alcove. The butterflies that had settled in her stomach took flight again the moment she took in the dress’s simple lines and uncluttered look. Blinking, she glanced at the sales clerk. How had the woman sized her up in the short time she and Bradley had been in the store? No matter. She made quick work of shucking her everyday clothes and slipping her fingers through armholes. The lace-trimmed front cascaded down over her knees to the floor in a waterfall of satin.
“This tiny mirror isn’t big enough to get the full effect,” the saleswoman declared while she zipped Sarah into the dress. “Let’s go out to the three-way so you can see how it really looks.” From seemingly out of thin air, she produced a pair of elegant white sandals, which slid smoothly onto Sarah’s bare feet.