Promise Me You

by Marina Adair

  ALSO BY MARINA ADAIR

  Nashville Heights series

  Promise Me You

  The Eastons

  Chasing I Do

  Drive Me Mad

  Betting on Us

  Sequoia Lake series

  It Started with a Kiss

  Every Little Kiss

  Heroes of St. Helena series

  Need You for Keeps

  Need You for Always

  Need You for Mine

  St. Helena Vineyard series

  Kissing Under the Mistletoe

  Summer in Napa

  Autumn in the Vineyard

  Be Mine Forever

  From the Moment We Met

  Sugar, Georgia series

  Sugar’s Twice as Sweet

  Sugar on Top

  A Taste of Sugar

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Marina Adair

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503903548

  ISBN-10: 1503903540

  Cover design by Letitia Hasser

  Cover photography by Mackenzie Kessler

  To Joan Swan, for the hours of plotting and replotting and the years of friendship and unconditional support. Without you this book would never have been. Thank you for being such a warm and grounding influence in my life.

  CONTENTS

  NEWSLETTER

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  NEWSLETTER

  Get the inside scoop on upcoming appearances, giveaways, book releases, and all things Marina Adair delivered right to your inbox! Don’t wait—visit www.marinaadair.com/newsletter to sign up today!

  XOXO,

  CHAPTER 1

  If this was what marital bliss felt like, then the only boyfriend Mackenzie Hart would ever commit to would be battery operated.

  It wasn’t so much that some guy had spilled his beer down the front of her overpriced dress. Or even the fact that she was two shots into the night and the rehearsal dinner still hadn’t started. Nope, what had Mackenzie flipping the universe the big one was that the only man she’d ever wanted to have and to hold was about to marry someone else.

  “Ball and chain locked and loaded,” Cash Kane said from behind the bar, a big-ass grin on his face. “I can’t believe my cousin’s actually getting hitched tomorrow.”

  Neither could Mackenzie.

  “Next there’ll be a mess of kids, and our band will go by way of the Diaper Genie,” Paul, the band’s bass player, slurred, making it obvious that he had drowned one too many sorrows.

  There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to numb Mackenzie’s pain.

  Ever since Hunter Kane, local musician and legendary ladies’ man, had announced his shocking engagement to one of Nashville’s biggest debutantes, the band had been scared. Scared that his new wife would grow tired of the long stretches on the road, scared that she’d convince him to go solo—like their label had been pushing for—and scared because they all knew damn well that without their front man, the Hunter Kane Band was going nowhere fast.

  Mackenzie was scared too. So scared she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her headaches were coming more frequently, until her vision became so blurry she couldn’t drive a car without the fear of running into something—or someone.

  Over the past few years, Hunter had gone from friend to writing partner, and eventually he’d become the man who taught her it was okay to trust. He was the only person in the world who really got her—looked past her hang-ups and saw the woman she could become.

  Sadly, at the moment, the only thing she was in danger of becoming was sick.

  “Well, at least he’ll have a hell of a honeymoon. I know it’s wrong to covet your bro’s woman, but man, oh man,” Paul said with a long look at Hadley, who stood under the twinkle-lit gazebo with Hunter, slowly swaying to the live band.

  “They should have saved the money and stayed home for all the sightseeing they’re going to do,” the drummer, Quinn, joked. “Hundred bucks says they don’t see anything besides the hotel room ceiling.”

  “Two hundred, they never even make it to the bed.” Paul reached into his pocket for his wallet.

  Quinn gave the bride-to-be another slow once-over and shook his head. “Three hundred, he doesn’t even get her out of her dress.” Bills hit the bar top, and he looked at Mackenzie. “You in?”

  Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “And listen to you try to mansplain how to get a woman out of her wedding dress? No thanks.”

  The guys laughed.

  Mackenzie didn’t. She was too busy trying not to picture Hadley in her wedding dress. And she sure as hell didn’t want to picture Hunter getting her out of it.

  Nope, she wasn’t in a betting mood. Not tonight.

  Because tonight symbolized the end of her dreams for love, family, and children. Tonight marked the end of her dreams period. For Mackenzie, Hunter was it. Problem was, his dreams lay in the perfect poise and beauty of the woman dancing in his arms.

  From her vantage point at the bar, Mackenzie was able to see the bride’s slim back, her delicate sheath dress trailing to the floor.

  Hadley Clemonte was tall and elegant, her glossy golden curls spilling over her shoulders and onto the white silk of her dress. Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and her smile spoke of a woman about to be married. Her unwavering poise showcased her family’s deep and moneyed roots. Her confident nature spoke volumes about the benefit a supportive and wonderful family offered.

  Hadley was stunning, cultured, perfectly feminine, a real southern belle. Four things Mackenzie could never be.

  “One more,” she said, waving her empty glass in the air.

  Brody Kane, the band’s agent, walked up to the bar, his deep blue eyes going soft with concern. The familiar expression made her heart flinch, as thousands of memories washed through her. Even though Brody and Hunter were cousins, they were often mistaken for brothers. And the look in his eyes was so similar to Hunter’s it was difficult to swallow. So she shifted her gaze to the bottles lining the back of the bar.

  “What?” she said. “It’s a wedding celebration. Look, I’m even wearing a dress.” She lifted her light orange dress, which Hadley had handpicked and Mackenzie was sure was the epitome of fashion. “The color is ‘cantaloupe whimsy’ and it has no straps, so Hadley used some kind of sticky tape to hold it up. Tape, Brody. I deserve another shot.”

  Brody lifted his hand to order another round, then took the stool next to her. “Or you could tell Hunter how you feel rather than just walk out that door and disappear.”

  “You mean walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, I got you the silver chafing dish off the registry, which I’m sure will come in hand
y on the tour bus. Oh, and by the way, I know you’re about to get married in front of five hundred of your closest friends, family, and journalists, but I think I like you. Check Yes or No.’”

  Brody’s expression was one of gentle understanding. “Or how about, ‘I know you think of me as a friend, but my feelings for you have changed. I thought you should know, because palling ’round with you hurts. A lot. And it’s making our working relationship really difficult on me.’”

  She shook her head.

  Today wasn’t about her. Or the band. It was about Hunter. This marriage was the right move for him. Hadley was well spoken and sophisticated and would be the perfect wife for his booming career. Also, she wasn’t staring down a future full of boundaries and limitations like Mackenzie was.

  Hunter’s career was on course to go the distance. He deserved a partner up to the challenge. Most of Mackenzie’s life had been a challenge, and that said nothing of how squirrelly it was about to become. What she needed was a safe place to recover.

  A quiet place to regroup.

  “Tonight, at the rehearsal, when Pastor John said, ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace,’ by not speaking up, I nonverbally verbally agreed to the silence-forever clause. And I take nonverbal verbal agreements seriously.” She sent Brody a pretty convincing smile. “You, as my agent, should know these things.”

  Brody rested a hand on hers, and she forced herself to remain still, to suppress her surprise at the unexpected contact. “What I know is that you have two choices: either say something or walk. Both will tear you up, but the not knowing . . . that’s what will haunt you forever. Trust me.”

  Mackenzie did trust Brody. It was why she’d confided in him about her situation. That, and he was morally obligated as her agent to keep her secrets. Even from his biggest client, and relative, Hunter.

  “I’ll be all right,” she assured him. “I just need some time.”

  All Mackenzie knew about love was sacrifice. As the only child of a single mom, she’d learned it was easier to say she was all right, even if she wasn’t. As an adult, she’d learned to just keep smiling when things got rough. But nothing about this moment was ever going to be all right.

  She could tell Hunter she was finally over her mom’s death and ready for a relationship.

  But that would be a lie. And Mackenzie had promised never to lie to herself again. Even for love. She’d done that once and lost her mom—the single most important person in her world. She’d only recently gained the strength to find closure, leaving behind the binding web of guilt and heartache. Only to discover that the universe had a sick sense of humor and the heartache was just beginning. At least for her, and she refused to burden Hunter with that.

  It might not seem like it now, but this change was for the best—for everyone involved.

  “What’s one more haunt to keep me company?” Mackenzie picked up her shot and, with a salute, downed it, then stood.

  She’d known what needed to happen when she’d RSVPed to the rehearsal. Without a backward glance, she moved toward the door. In her attempt to go unnoticed, she knocked over a barstool and, unaccustomed to wearing anything higher than cowgirl boots, stumbled into something strong, solid, and body-meltingly warm.

  “Where are you sneaking off to, Trouble?” Hunter asked, and that low, gravelly southern drawl that made him a superstar rolled right through her.

  “I don’t sneak,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze, since his BS meter was always dialed to interrogation setting.

  “I know sneaking when I see it. And you’re sneaking. Out of my rehearsal dinner.”

  “I’m not sneaking,” she said, looking at his hands. His big, masculine, almost-married hands that had grabbed her waist to keep her from falling. “And for your information, I was looking for the ladies’ room.”

  “The ladies’ room is behind you. And the exit, which you were making a beeline for, would be in front of you. Just past the rose garden, the horde of guests waiting for supper, and your pride.”

  “Fine,” she admitted. “I was sneaking.”

  “I know.” He sounded so smug. “You always look like you’re two seconds from crying when you’re contemplating something illegal.”

  She snorted. “Leaving a dinner at which you aren’t obligated to pick up the tab is hardly illegal.”

  “It is when my fiancée thinks my best friend hates her,” he said quietly.

  Well, isn’t that just great?

  “I don’t hate Hadley,” she said, looking up and—oh God, how was she ever going to say goodbye when those warm blue eyes of his drew her in.

  They were deep and bright, and the color of a gentle rolling sea. So mesmerizing she was actually standing in a poufy dress in the middle of a wedding rehearsal, waxing poetic.

  She needed to get a grip.

  “Then what’s going on?” he asked. “You bailed on the last few weeks of the tour, you cut out of the bachelor weekend early, and you’ve been avoiding us all night.”

  You. I’ve been avoiding you.

  “Jesus, Hunter, I help you write songs. That’s it.” Her throat closed, because after tonight she wouldn’t even be able to do that. “So when we wrapped on the last song for the album, I decided it was time to come home.”

  Just because Hunter treated her as if she were a full-fledged member of the band, it didn’t make it so.

  “As for the bachelor weekend, I cut out two days early,” she added.

  “It was a three-day trip.”

  “The guys were talking about going to a strip club. I don’t do strippers.”

  “That’s a shame.” His eyes roamed down her body, slowly coming to a stop at her heels. “Because you in those shoes with a stripper would have made for one hell of a bachelor party.”

  Even though she knew he was teasing her, an unwelcome but all too familiar heat surged through her body. When it reached her cheeks, she smacked him in the chest, averting his attention.

  Unrequited love sucked—but not nearly as much as it would if he learned about her feelings the night before his wedding. She smacked him again.

  “Ow,” he said. “And I don’t do strippers either.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, just that one time in Tuscaloosa, but she was in grad school and liked Merle Haggard, and we dated for almost a month.” Which before Hadley would have been considered a serious relationship for Hunter. “Plus, I’m not that guy anymore. I’m getting married tomorrow, and my best friend won’t even give me one dance before she cuts tail.”

  “Brody is your best friend.”

  “He isn’t wearing a dancing dress.”

  Hunter’s fingers slowly slid around to her lower back and pulled her farther into his grasp, his strength enveloping her. She’d relied on it, and after her recent diagnosis, she needed it with a desperation that consumed her. That was the excuse she gave herself for allowing her head to fall gently against his chest, resting there.

  “One dance with the girl who knows my every move,” he whispered. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

  One last dance, she told herself.

  Mackenzie breathed in his scent—yummy male with a punch of high-octane testosterone, and a sweetness that was addictive. The last time he’d held her like this was the night her mother had died. Hunter had brought her to his place, given her a shoulder to cry on, and promised her he’d be with her every step of the way.

  Her mother’s death had been the most painful experience of Mackenzie’s life. Even more heartbreaking than watching the funny, bright woman she admired slowly lose her sight and her independence.

  Her mother’s blindness had defined both of their lives. For Susan it had meant the end of an accomplished career as a professor of photography at the local university. For Mackenzie it had meant becoming her mom’s eyes to the outside world.

  A job that, had Mackenzie taken it more seriously, could have stopped her mother from stepping into the crosswalk.

  Could have, should have, would have. T
he story of Mackenzie’s life.

  “I don’t feel much like dancing,” she said, stepping back. “I just came to tell you how happy I am for you and that you deserve every ounce of love that comes your way.” She looked into those blue pools. “You’re a good man.”

  He studied her long and hard, until she felt the tears she’d been holding back start to surface.

  “You look pale. Is it another migraine?” If only he knew how far off the mark he was. “What did the doctor say?”

  “That in a short time everything will be normal,” she lied, and the dread she’d been carrying since her diagnosis slammed hard in the pit of her stomach. This would be the last time she’d ever see Hunter’s face or watch his eyes darken with emotion.

  And this would be the last time she’d ever be able to look up at the man who owned her heart.

  “Does it hurt now?” He cupped her cheek.

  His hand felt smooth and comforting, while the calluses on his musician’s fingers made tiny shivers scatter across her bare skin. She swallowed several times before she spoke, praying she wouldn’t sound as fragile as she felt. Because Mackenzie didn’t do fragile. And Hunter knew that.

  “My head’s fine,” she said.

  She couldn’t feel anything over the aching in her heart. Hunter’s genuine concern only made it worse. No one cared for her like he did, and now that he was getting married, taking care of her would be inappropriate.

  She’d always known that Hunter could never be hers. But now it was a fact.

  The weeks that followed the announcement of his engagement had dragged by, and her grief had turned to a dull longing. Hanging in the background of her every breath was the constant reminder of the changes that would surely come. And losing Hunter wasn’t the only change headed her way.

  Gone would be the closeness they shared, the comfortable silent moments and the pee-your-pants-laughing ones. The ones that were so intense no words were needed to express their awesomeness.

  But a ring was in play. And in less than twenty-four hours, vows were to be exchanged. This had to be goodbye.

  “I hate to cut out early, but I can’t do this right now,” she said.

  “Okay, let’s grab a seat,” he said, already looking for a place to put her. “I’ll get you a drink.”